


Green Eyes

by SaltyWriter



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Animal Abuse, Armin dies, Borderline Personality Disorder, Boys in Skirts, Car Sex, Child Abuse, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Eren Yeager, Demisexual Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Depression, Eren Is a Little Shit, Eren Yeager - Freeform, Eren in a crop top, Eren is starting to get impatient, Feminine Eren, Gently, High School, I will brain fuck you, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Levi Ackerman - Freeform, Levi and Jean fighting over Eren, Levi has intrusive thoughts, Levi likes watching eren get naked, Levi smooth talks a lot, Levi's mom is crazy as fuck, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Lookie i did porn, M/M, Murder, Obsessive Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Overprotective Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Past Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager, Peeping, Physical Abuse, Porn with a lot of Mystery, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Slow Build, Spoiler: Levi Wins, Stalking, Violence, We need jesus, Yandere, Yandere Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), are you proud of me, don't worry m8, eren is an innocent lamb, eren wears panties, eren's mom is literally an angel, ereri, horny bastard, levi is literally suffering from at least a trillion mental disorders, little freak, riren - Freeform, rivaere - Freeform, slowly, this is gonna be a ride, you better fuckin be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9623054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltyWriter/pseuds/SaltyWriter
Summary: Levi Ackerman, sufferer of extreme abuse, and witness of multiple cases of murder and rape, has been secluded from most of humanity since his mother's death. Only after receiving an interesting proposal does he finally get the chance to be anywhere above ground. The proposal is one that he'd assumed he could do, but he was very, very wrong. Already with a deteriorating mental state, Levi experiences extreme moods, which only get progressively worse the longer he's around a single person.With a weak mental stability, Levi attempts to maintain proximity with his prey. It's only a matter of time, and plan B isn't his favorite path to follow.[Name is a placeholder]





	1. Learning to Love Him

**Author's Note:**

> Haha kill me
> 
> Hallu, I'm throwing this here. This will be Hella bloody in later chapters, and I'm contemplating a rape/non-con theme for later. The first chapter is very short, and I'm sorry! T^T Forgive me.
> 
> ANYWays, I have no idea how long this could be. It may be forty chapters or just five, god fucking knows. Hopefully this won't become one of my many fucked fanfics I've written in the past that are either never finished or a shitstorm of plot twists haha
> 
> I promise next chapters will be much longer, and instead of flashbacks there will be MUCH interaction. ^^
> 
> I will also put warnings before each chapter, so if you're worried about triggers, please be warned. There are many in this series, as I currently have it planned.
> 
>  
> 
> ((THE TITLE IS A PLACEHOLDER.))

When I was little, my mother used to tell me stories.

I loved them. Every night, after nine, when the sun was down and we had all finished eating, I would hop off the chair and tug on my mother’s dress, and she’d happily follow me to my room. I’d flop on my bed, blue sheets cradling my small body. Her fingers would dance over the spines of the books she kept in my room, and finally she would pause with a thoughtful smile. When that smile came, I knew she had a good idea of what story to tell me.

The stories were mild, and there was never gore, or blood – mostly fairies, butterflies, pots of gold – the works, for a precious four year old. I enjoyed every last one of them, and never hesitated to ask for her to tell it to me again the next night. My mother was a storyteller, and stories were my favorite things. Dad came home drunk; the dogs were vicious and hungry things that beat against the fence because of my father’s abuse, a never ending snarling that came from the back yard, which was overgrown and dull.

I enjoyed those brief escapes my mother read to me, the freedom that came with them – I could live someone else's life, if only for a moment, and understand them. It was a nice feeling.

But I think the most memorable story my mother told was of a girl.

Her name, I wasn’t told. I knew nothing about this girl, unlike the other stories my mother told me. They always had a little personality, a little sprinkle of description for the heroine. This girl was no heroine.

My mother was suffering, when I was 10. My father’s abuse had shifted onto her, and her mind was a wreck from hospital drugs. She had been admitted into many mental facilities, and each had given her a new pill for her mind-numbing cocktail to down each night. She didn’t think that much, and the bruises on her face didn’t need much explaining. I knew, even at such a young age, that she likely had bruises everywhere else, too.

Anyway, this girl I spoke of.

She was in love.

Of course, normal people fall in love eventually right? Well, that’s not counting the few that don’t wish to find love, or can’t feel it like others can. But the average human finds someone – one day. Even if that person hits you or spits at you, you and that person may be in love.

This girl found love in very little. She didn’t love the flowers, or the color pink, or the skies, or even stories. She simply did not feel it – of course, not like other people. She felt intense bursts of it, and she never knew who or what it was for until it was over. I only later would know that this was obsession. An evil kind.

She didn’t like boys, nor did she like girls. She didn’t like anyone – and that made her feel wrong about herself, because one by one, her friends loved others. Even if it pleased her to see her friends later get their heart broken, returning them to their single status right beside her. She didn’t want to be alone, no matter how little heart she had.

It didn’t last long, this emotionless period, because one day, she found her soul mate.

He wasn’t much older than she was, and had a kind, soft smile that stole hearts and ended wars, moved mountains and saved lives. That may be an over exaggeration, but the girl felt all of these at once, like a blast of pure luck and joy.

And in that moment, she fell deeply, desperately in love with this boy. She would grovel at his feet if he asked for it, would bleed for him, would make _others_ bleed for him. It was all a part of this love she felt, and she was blessed by it.

The boy did not love her like she did for him, and she knew this. She still smiled, and held her bleeding tongue, for she would bite it every time he was near, terrified to say the wrong thing. She needed him.

In a fleeting moment, the boy befriended this girl. There was love, but it was not what she wanted from him. She wanted his undivided attention, his never ceasing gaze on _her_. Not long after, that gaze she wanted so badly fell to another. This… _abomination_ , as the girl decided to call her, was not special. Her eyes were dull and boring, her hair long and always tangled at the base of her spine. She wasn’t slender and tall, like the girl was, but instead short and still possessed little of her baby fat. The outrage came.

The girl learned a new emotion, and this one was more powerful than love could ever be. It seared her bones, touched her ribs and tore at them, grasped her head and pressed inward, making her mind pop.

The girl broke.

At this moment, I sat on my bed, eyes wide, staring up at my mother. She was pale and sickly, eyes dazed as she seemed to be remembering something old and painful.

That night, after the girl learned that the boy had fallen for an abomination, she traveled on foot to her home. The parents were gutted, one by one.

She stood in the blood of the abomination’s birth parents, that white skirt she knew the boy liked stained ruby. When the abomination came home, she was killed as well. However, she was not killed as quickly as the parents were.

Fingers snapped, bones jutted from pale white flesh, and small gurgled chokes soon became the girl’s favorite thing. It gave her power. She never had power over her emotions, and even if she willed them onto her face, they never felt as genuine as if she was with the boy she had fallen desperately in love with.

I remember crying as my mother finished, setting her frail fingers in her lap.

“What happened to the boy?”

“He married the girl,”

I tilt my head. I didn’t understand the beauty of marriage, then, for I had watched what it had done to my mother over time. I assumed it was simply a bond, nothing more. Marriage was nothing concerning emotions or eternal affection for me at the time.

Mother stood, then, and kissed my forehead. Her fingers were cold as she brushed my hair back, and the paper-thin smile she made had my spine tingling.

I watched my mother leave, that night. Eight years ago.

I never saw her alive again.

 

 

_Report 174: On ███ █ ██, in the beautiful and peaceful town of ██████, the first serial killing in ██ years has occurred. Police have connected the criminal to be in close relation with the previous serial murderer, ███ ██████. There appears to be 7 victims, each with their ███ removed. Each victim has been determined to have a single thing in common – they all have bright, green eyes. We’ll keep you updated – Mike, back to you._


	2. Meeting Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I make my first move. He always goes to the girl's bathroom at third block on each Monday morning. There, I will meet him. I will forcefully welcome myself into that beautiful life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooahhh chapter two
> 
> Levi is a hardcore predator. Like, Eren - run boy run
> 
> I've decided to write each chapter summary like an entry in Levi's plans. Each chapter title will be Levi's title of each moment.
> 
> ENjoYY

I woke up to a siren, this morning. It wasn’t the usual, high pitched whine that sounded more like a heart monitor proclaiming to the world, _haha, look, this bitch dead._ No, it was the, _it’s five in the morning and some idiot tripped on something and cracked their skull open so my sorry ambulance ass had to come save him._ Those are the worst. They’re loud as hell, and I didn’t really ever understand why. Should I care so much that some dumbfuck can’t take a step without falling face-first in their kitchen? No. Exactly.

But, the only thing that matters is this stupid siren woke me up. Usually, I have another two hours before I get up, but once I’m up I don’t go back to sleep. I don’t understand how it works, but it’s pretty special – my sleep schedule, that is. I get up two hours before I’m meant to go to school and begin dressing. I don’t eat anything, like usual, and catch my mom outside, already elbows-deep in the dishes. I walk by the kitchen door, but pause and reverse, looking past the doorpost, confusion evident all over my face. She usually isn’t up so early.

“Mom?” Her shoulders stiffen, and she gives me a fleeting glance over one. She hums gleefully, pale hands scrubbing over frail glass and porcelain. “You’re up early… aren’t you?”

Her lips bunch to the side, her hips swaying, as if she’s delighted in some odd way. She isn’t usually so happy and upbeat, but I can assume it has something to do with me. Otherwise she wouldn’t be up early cleaning and preparing to cook. I look over the pancake mix, and a fleeting smile passes my face. She’s making pancakes. Definitely has to do with me – although, I’m not sure what about me yet.

“Ah! Eren, have you forgotten again?” I cock my head faintly when she sets the plate back in the water, letting off steam, and tosses the towel across the faucet. “It’s your birthday!”

I cringe inwardly. Fuck. How many times have I forgotten my birthday? This must be – what – the third time in a row? Ever since I turned thirteen, I haven’t been in touch in the slightest. I forget small things and exude a sort of dead-like aura. I used to be very upbeat and interesting, now I’m too serious for other freshmen to deal with. I totally get it. I wouldn’t want to be around me either, to be honest. Mother wipes her hands off on her apron, and nearly bounces over to me. I - still a mess and not yet able to brush my teeth or straighten my hair – nearly shake her off, but her hands are sure and it makes me happy to know it isn’t one of those idle shoulder touches to make sure I’m listening to her.

“My boy will be 16 today!”

16 is probably going to suck. Isn’t that the age teenagers truly become… teenagers? Like, full blown brats? I snort. My mother’s eyebrows draw together, obviously a little worried about my brief reaction. She was likely hoping for a broad smile and a proclamation that I’ll be the best teenage boy on the planet. She’s wrong.

I give a sheepish smile, realizing I just snorted at my mother’s enthusiasm. She has every right to be enthused. She raised me, didn’t she?

“That’s great, mom.”

“Wait… why are you up so early?” Her brows twitch, still drawn. I break out a small groan.

“Stupid ambulance,”

With that, the worry only gets worse. She pulls away, standing up straight, and presses her hand to her chin, examining me closely. Her gaze starts at my shoes, and stops on my eyes.

“You’d be a great ambulance, Eren.”

Dammit, it’s day one and she’s already trying to fit me into some sort of profession. I don’t want to make her sad, so I smile half-heartedly, and to end it quickly I brush by her, dipping my hand in the wooden bowl graced with bright red apples. I collect one, leaning against the counter.

“But that _is_ odd,”

I raise a brow this time with my mother’s words. She isn’t perturbed by much. I bite into the apple.

“There was a lot of them,” I say, nodding faintly. The apple is sweet, and maybe it’s just my mother’s passion making everything better than it really is. Things aren’t usually that good. “Think it was some sort of rally? Some sort of fight?”

She crosses an arm over her stomach, thoughtfully stroking her braid.

“Actually, no! I heard some a little this morning on the news about some sort of huge serial killing downtown,”

I almost drop the apple.

What? Serial killer? That’s pretty rare. It’s a little terrifying, knowing it isn’t that far from us. What’s the possibility of there being another, even closer, and eventually here? Mother could be involved. Mikasa, too.

“That’s stupid,” I state a little absently. She silently agrees with a nod, returning to what she was doing previously. I take time peeling skin off my apple, suddenly curious about this whole ordeal. Why was there a serial killer so close by? Who was involved? Why?

Specifically, why? What motives were there?

“So, what does my adult son want to eat tonight?” I roll my eyes. I guess, if anything, I’d want nothing at all. I’m not usually hungry when I get home. I go straight to my room, pop in my ear buds and scribble for a good few hours, then pass out pretty early.

But I’ll humor her. “How about… tacos?”

“Tacos!” she wails. Obviously she wants to cook something advanced. Mother doesn’t settle. “Something better, Eren. Put thought into it!”

I sigh. “Fine. Lobster.”

This time she gasps. “I’m not rich!”

I give up at last, and roll my eyes. A grin stretches itself over her face.

“Surprise me, mom,”

“How about spaghetti and human meatballs?”

I choke on a piece of apple, and she has to coax me to breathe.

 

 

 

 

Of course the conversation between myself and my mother is quite pure, but when I get to school I’m automatically feeling the burn of a horrific day. Armin and Mikasa both ambush me at my locker and wish my happy Birthday a good twenty times before finally deciding that’s enough. Mikasa found the little gift I wanted, even if I tried to make it the hardest thing to find ever so she wouldn’t actually buy it for me. She takes my hand, mid-reach to slap my locker shut, and plops a small blue charm in my hand. It’s simple wings, white and blue. The charm comes from one of my favorite bands, and it’s limited edition. Again, I nearly choke.

She smiles that sly little smile.

Classes are dull, like always, and I absolutely hate each one. I sit through them, though, drifting in and out of listening. Occasionally it’ll feel like I’m underwater, and suddenly there’ll be one little attention-getter, like someone bumping their foot against the back of my chair or someone sneezing really loud.

By third block hits, I’m tired and can’t really bother with class, so I excuse myself. Of course, it’s only momentarily, and it involves going to the bathroom to reapply makeup.

I usually go to the girl’s room to do my makeup, but there’s a few in there, giggling away and tapping away on their oversized iPhones. I usually don’t go in the boy’s to do my makeup, but it’s empty from what I see. There are no feet, thankfully. I’d prefer alone and uncomfortable to surrounded and uncomfortable. I lean over the counter, a finger pressed hard against my cheekbone, keeping my lashline bared.

I’ve slid the tip of the pencil over the last strip just as I feel another presence, like air brushing against my legs. I snap straight up, nearly dropping the pencil.

My eyes meet steel grey in the mirror.

“You wear makeup?”

I nearly stab him with the damn pencil when he questions me. I take a small step to the side, albeit hesitantly, wondering if he’s simply here to wash his hands. I don’t know him, but he looks mildly familiar. Our school is large, and based off of the maturity he exudes I’d say he’s a senior. When he takes the invitation to stand beside me, I feel a small prickle travel up my spine.

He’s very different. He smells like roses and smoke, wears pure black. His jacket sleeve brushes against my forearm, causing me to stiffen only more.

“I do.” I whisper, at last. He tilts his head a little to me. I watch a smirk appear beneath the thin veil of black that falls before his face.

“Why?”

“I feel better wearing it,”

“But you’re a boy.”

I have an intense urge to smack him with those words. Makeup doesn’t have a gender, idiot. He seems to slowly come to terms, though, and the smirk becomes a genuinely understanding incline at the edge of his lips.

I don’t know this boy. I don’t know who he is, what grade he’s in, whether he’s even enrolled here or not. I feel like I’ve seen him before, so I say nothing. His presence is oddly uncomfortable, though, and leaves me nearly shaking in my shoes. He doesn’t wash his hands, but leans against the wall just beside the sink. My fingers are beginning to tremble, muddled from that one form beside me.

Decidedly, he’s quite handsome. I’d say an edgy type, and the thick, neat line of his eyeliner simply making his gaze more and more powerful than before. I would shove him away, but the type of prickly I’m feeling comes with the fluttering you feel around boys you like.

“Eren…” I snap my face up to him, eyeliner fully done and eyes now fully framed by thick lashes.

My name. How does he know my name?

“I did not mean to offend you. I’d say you look stunning,”

An annoyed flush rises to my face. How could he criticize me for wearing makeup and then claim it’s attractive? I feel the urge rise, but this time it’s to stomp his stupid foot. It’s been right beside mine for the whole time. He isn’t even in full uniform – instead, he’s wearing stupid military boots. I don’t know how he requested black instead of white. He stands out, and a lot. My skirt is light, frost blue – the dress shirt I wear overtop bigger than it should be. I hate my body, so I stick to large shirts.

“You don’t know me,” I say at last, terse.

“I’d love to, though.”

What is wrong with him?

“Well, you’re at a bad start, asswi-“

He cuts me off rather quickly, but in a smooth, almost enticing tone. “Then why don’t you let me introduce myself?”

At last, I let the hatred leave me, if only a moment. At least he wasn’t criticizing me even after I flared my rainbow feathers. The look he has on his face is almost sure, and it’s different to see. Maybe I’m a little interested. He has a nice face, and a warm, vibrating voice, that makes my core tremble a little. I drop my mascara in the makeup bag, and turn to him at last.

“Fine.”

I’m rather surprised when his first move is to take my hand. My fingers nearly jolt in terror, yank away – but I can’t find it in me to do it, not when I’m intrigued. His lips touch my knuckle. The iron flash of his eyes, gazing up at me just before he pulls away – his lips are soft and delicate against my skin, making even more of those stupid sparks pulse along my limbs.

“I’m Levi.” His voice makes my throat close in on itself, trying to search for words in my blank head. He smirks.

“Eren.”

“I know that.”

“You must know a lot then, huh?” I raise a brow at him, amused. I can humor him, too, just like I have my mother for so many years.

“You have no idea.”

I grab my makeup bag, brushing off his little agreement, and reach to tug my skirt down more over my thighs. I’m not the type to be so very outward, but he seemed to enjoy it, if only a little. I’m not usually this flirty. Is this even considered flirting?

“I have to go back to class,” I say, regretting that I have to leave when he obviously has nothing better to do than stalk bathrooms for gay boys.

“I’ll see you later then, yes?” Again, with his voice. He may be a transfer student, because at the very end of his words, I hear a lilt that only comes with French accents. More red brightens my cheeks.

“Of course.”

Leaving his side sucks, as I’m already so attached, just from his looks and the kiss on my knuckle, like some sort of damn prince. I don’t want that odd, fierce warmth to be gone so quickly.

But there’s something in his gaze. It’s so blank, and yet so personal. It’s hard to place, like watching people fall apart, like watching skies crack and oceans drain. Nothing in my life is ever right, anyways, so it won’t matter if he’s messed up too. The door snaps shut behind me, and I’m alone in the hallway, wondering if I ever will see him, as he said.

For once, I don’t think I want to be alone.

 

 

Diary Entry - suspected murder. Previous diary entries expunged due to incomprehensible material.

Date: ▓/▓/▓▓

 


	3. Eren and his abominations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a day late! D: 3 FOrgiv emE senpAIS

The moment the door closed, I felt my control shatter. It was Armageddon within my head – my world felt like glass, and the outward force shredded everything. I felt alone, and the terror that swarmed inside my like wasps stung whatever was left from the blast.

Eren has taught me terror.

How close was I to losing him? How quickly would he have passed me off and eventually want nothing to do with me? The longer I spoke with him, the more I fidgeted, the more I pulled at my sleeves, the more my nails dug into my own palms. Every time his mouth opened I feared it would be the moment he told me he hated me, or was disgusted by me.

I couldn’t let him despise me. I swore that if he ever claimed he did, I’d result to plan B. I did _not_ want to result to plan B.

Sadly, it would have been much nicer than his hatred directed towards me.

One by one, I collected the shattered pieces Eren had made, and had to reinforce them myself, with a new mentality.

I would approach him as a friend – later, I would find a way to make him love me. If that way must be by force, then so be it. I have a basement – and I could easily make enough money to feed, clothe, and bathe him on my own.

Eventually, I realize it’s far too long to be away from class, especially just to use the bathroom, and finally wash my face once, just to wake myself up. It’ll be hard, finding a way to make Eren love me without destroying what mental stability he has, but I _will_ figure him out.

 

 

 

When I get home, mother is there to greet me, and once again the birthday excitement is biting me square in the ass. If I could just tell her off on it, I would, but it’d hurt her feelings more than it’d hurt to let my parents obsess over me for one day. I’m sure there are worse things they could be interested in – for example, the serial killer, or taxes. Everyone hates taxes.

I push the door closed behind me with the heel of my shoe, hiking my bag more over my shoulder. Mother’s head pokes out from the kitchen door, and her usual motherly smile is plastered on her face like hot glue. “Welcome home, Eren!”

I wave a little absently, still feeling the burn of lips against the back of my hand. I don’t understand how he could do that – is it possible to wash them off? Are they imprinted into my fucking skin?

Maybe I don’t want to wash it off.

“Hey, mom.”

I don’t realize my dad is here until he lifts a halfhearted hand over the back of his chair. He’s always fairly uninterested, my dad, but I learned over time it isn’t really his relationship with me, but more his personality. He’s cold to my mother as well, but he loves her to death. I wouldn’t say my dad is ignoring me, he’s just busy a lot, and when he rests he doesn’t get very long. So he tries to milk it.

But he’s a dork too. He tries to spend time with me, but he sucks – very bad – at it.

“Hey, kiddo,”

I hate that name. I set my bag on the couch. He grimaces when he realizes I’m wearing the female school uniform, but manages to twist it into a really painful grin. He doesn’t agree with how I dress, but after an hour of my mother squealing at him for not being ‘accepting’, he learned his lesson. He doesn’t criticize me very much, nor does my mother. In fact, mom is usually quite open to anything I do. She wholeheartedly flung herself at the chance to go to a women’s store to buy a dress for dance, and even drove me to one or two of my cheerleading classes.

“You look wonderful, Eren,” he grinds out. I swear he grinds everything out. I snort, rolling my eyes.

“You’re mad that I’m not wearing a baseball cap instead, huh?” He tried to get me into baseball when I was little, and I was one of the best on the team for a long time – but I lost interest. It didn’t have to do with gender identity, because baseball is for all genders, but I began to find interest in new things. Like soccer, and cheerleading, and dance.

To say the least, I’m impartially involved, but not easily recognized. I’m the background character, if anything.

“No, no, no. I just wish you wouldn’t wear them so short,”

I spin a little awkwardly to pick at the back of the skirt, shoving it more down my legs.

“It’s just a little above the knee, dad.”

“Still.”

This time I roll my eyes. My mother sticks out of the kitchen again, and glares hard at my dad. He automatically shuts up, but smirks a little at her. My family is what I’d describe as healthy. I love them, and they love me. Rarely are there fights.

I should be very thankful. But yet, I can’t find it in me.

“Eren, can you come here for a second?” I lift my head from staring down at my skirt, and mindlessly follow my mother’s voice as she disappears into the kitchen again. I’m still trying to determine how dad considers my skirt to be too short. I consider his opinion, whether I like it or not. When I’m in the kitchen, mother steps back from the oven, baring a cake for me to see between her mitted hands. “Is it good?”

I nod a little. It’s vanilla, my favorite, but completely un-iced. My mother is very neat, and it looks nearly professional.

She should open a shop, but I don’t think dad will support her entirely. We’re financially stable and all, but it’s a pain to have both of them working at once. I’m used to mom being home, so I’m kind of glad she doesn’t work. Of course, I get other families with working mothers, but there’s really no need, and she likes being home to keep things under control.

“It looks great,” I say. She sets it on the counter, and does the odd swaying thing again with her hips, like a small little dance. I lean against the counter again, just like I did this morning. “Mom… is there… some sort of French family that moved in town recently?”

She jerks her head up, and after a moment of thought, gives a faint nod.

“The Ackerman man and his son?”

My breath catches. Is his last name Ackerman? I wish I knew. I should have asked, but it would have been odd.

“Yeah. What about them?” I prod, somewhat tentative.

She touches her chin, ignoring the cake for a split moment. But it doesn’t last, because she finally begins to work on it again. I watch her put it together, icing and stacking one by one. The icing is a bright green, like my eyes.

“Well, I know they’re a very reclusive few. I talked to Kenny, but he didn’t have much time. He didn’t seem to want to talk either.” Kenny? I’m assuming that’s Levi’s dad. Mother likes to know everything around town, and tends to welcome new neighbors. Our town has a long, bad history, and she knows a lot about it. I don’t know much, aside from a select few famous serial killers who started out here.

It’s kind of terrifying, knowing that we’re one of the most known towns. Mostly known for the insanity.

“What about his… son?”

“No, he has a nephew. I don’t know what happened to the boy’s parents and all, but Kenny seems to take care of him well.”

“So Kenny is Levi’s uncle?”

Her lips bunch to the side, and she raises a brow at me.

“Interested, aren’t you?”

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks, and I awkwardly look away. I’m not necessarily interested, I just want to know. It seems odd that a French family just showed up out of nowhere. Was he from France, or has he lived in America his entire life?

“No. So what was the house like?” She returns to the cake, once again, and is already smoothing the outside with the vivid green icing.

“Oh, it was okay. It was some old lady’s house before. It was rather dark, I’m guessing Kenny’s trying to save some money on the power bill and all. He just had natural light. And everything was extremely clean. I swore I could see my reflection on the couch, even.” She chuckled to herself. “Again, the place seems really well taken care of. I think Kenny bleached everything – smart move, that old lady was a mess.”

 _Huh. Bleach. Isn’t that dangerous?_ It seems a litter overboard, if anything. I think I got as much out of mother as I could.

“Eren, why are you wondering so much over this boy?” Mother asks, making another smooth stroke of her knife, flattening the icing. The question hits me like bricks, and I’m stunned for a moment, trying to figure out _why_. Why do I want to know about him? He kissed my hand and told me I’m pretty, and suddenly I’m asking the whole town who he is?

Why can’t I just ask him tomorrow? Perhaps I’ll see him – maybe I won’t. It’d be odd if I didn’t see him again.

I shrug, though, as noncommittal as possible. I don’t even really know for sure, either. I don’t usually like people, unless they’re my friends.

“I don’t know. He’s new – I just want to get to know some about him. I saw him at school today, and he was really… friendly,” The word "friendly" comes out awkward. My face becomes darker, now a light red.

A loving smile, like the icing on the cake, breaks on her face again. She doesn’t even need to direct it at me for my heart to warm.

“Just wear condoms, and I don’t mind.”

“Mom!”

 

 

Once eight hits, mother has already hand cooked a damn five-course meal. Mikasa and Armin show up after long, thanks to my mother’s request – and Armin is throwing the idea of going to Jean’s place when it’s all said and done at home. Of course I wouldn’t mind going, but there’s also the fact that I don’t like Jean in the slightest. Mostly because he jokes about how I dress.

Of course we used to be best friends – but over the years, he changed, and sometimes change is bad. I don’t say anything though, and just nod. Armin is the one who is most impressed by my mother’s cooking. She’s pretty amazing when it comes to cooking exotic German dishes, and when she tries to teach me how to cook anything I nearly burn the house down each time.

To say the least, it’s awkward having to sit between Mikasa and my dad sharing a silent eye-battle from across the table. Mikasa never really liked my dad, and it has a lot to do with the fact that I told her he’s bad at being verbally kind.

She’s very protective.

At last, all is done, and I follow Mikasa and Armin outside. I like Mika’s car – it’s sleek and black, and having a rich family means she gets a lot of what she wants. I don’t envy her, but I wish I could have her badass car.

The drive is short, because Jean doesn’t live too far away. I used to walk to his house when we were in baseball, and he’d walk me to practice. I had a crush on him for a short time in fourth grade, but I got over it pretty quickly. He’s Christian. He doesn’t agree with my lifestyle, which is part of the reason why we drifted apart. The first day I wore a skirt, I felt like I was as I should be – but then he had to tug on it and say, ‘What the Hell are you thinking?’

It hurt, but again, the pain never really lasts too long.

His house is big and almost as nice as Mika’s house. I used to sit on that porch with him and play board games just for him to kick my ass. I’ve never been very smart. I brush off the ache, and guide myself along the familiar path. Jean has changed a lot, from what I heard. He has a hard core crush on poor Mika, who still holds a grudge on him over how he treated me.

The house is pretty lit up – lights flickering just beyond the curtains, an obnoxious bump of bass beneath my feet with each step. I almost want to turn around and leave with the sick feeling that rises in my gut, but I push it down. I can have fun for one night – mom trusts me to be a good kid.

Armin pushes open the door, smiling at Mikasa, who’d said something about a horse being too loud. Light spills out, a mirage of green, blue, purple, yellow. It nearly blinds me.

I’m really going to regret this, aren’t I?

 

 

[Brief excerpt from serial murderer's diary]

 

**in·san·i·ty**

inˈsanədē/

_noun_

noun: **insanity**

  1. the state of being seriously mentally ill; _**madness**_.

"he suffered from bouts of insanity"

  |    
---|---  
  




	4. Disgusting Fucking Horse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a late update, tell me if there are any errors!! 3
> 
> *Levi Intensifies*

The world around me becomes nothing more than brief flashes, illuminated all shades of the rainbow, like a mirage of light and flesh. My breath is taken away, lungs shaken with vibrating bass – bodies slam against me, nearly toppling me into others, but a pale hand steadies me. Mika breaks into a laugh, nearly unheard beneath the music. I can’t even see her face in the lights, and if I do, it’s small and nearly a million miles away from me. I don’t want to let go, but in moments the sea of bodies have sucked me in.

Where the fuck am I, again? It’s just a jumble of color and empty faces. I try to shove people away, but I don’t get very far – it’s nearly impossible to clear my mind from the sound, the _wild_ of the party that’s revolving around me, a whirlpool of personalities and people.

Mikasa is long gone – there’s nothing but sweat and hot breaths, caressing me from every side. In places like this, the world around you feels like a mouth, swallowing you whole and pressing you in. I can’t tell which way is up, which is down, or if there is even supposed to be any sort of direction to the madness.

What’s the point of direction, anyways? Who organizes such a beautiful chaos?

But, I can’t live without peace.

It’s nearly impossible to escape the writhing crowd, but I manage after a few hundred muttered apologies. When I break from the body of the party, it’s into what I can assume is the greatroom.

It’s as I remember it, but beer bottles are everywhere. Glass crunches beneath my flats, but I can’t even hear it – just feel it, like I do the ambiences. My throat clenches, trying to navigate, figure out what I’m watching. I’m a mess, and it’s only been what, five minutes? I promise myself I won’t drink, but it seems everyone else here doesn’t have that kind of mindset. It’s the atmosphere making me so drunk.

It seems this is the calm in the storm, the eye in the center. I can make out a few bodies, a couple curled on the couch – am I sure they’re not just entwined? Their movements are erratic and frantic. There’s a group of boys leaning against the counter of an open concept kitchen. I watch one of them dig a needle into their flesh, hear one of them burst into absurd laughing.

I’m not in my element. Armin goes to these kids of parties? Does he know what this is?

He’s probably here for Annie – fuck.

I want to collapse here, just let the music inhale me like air, and let myself do the same to it. It makes my throat rattle; my guts feel like there’s no gravity inside me. I can’t see straight.

In the midst of all this insanity, a hand passes in front of my eyes. I don’t realize I’ve actually sunk to the floor until I have to tilt my head up to see that face connected to that shoulder, that shoulder connected to that arm – and the hand. For a moment, I assumed that hand was just a figment of my imagination.

That face.

On instinct, I touch the greenish fingers that pass in front of my face. He yanks me up, and not very gently either. I’m dragged away from the scene, until the bass is merely faint groans beyond the walls. I vaguely remember lifting my legs to hop up stairs, taking two at a time. I feel my shoulder hit a corner once, but don't entirely process it.

I’ve been in this hallway before – it’s on the second floor, right before Jean’s bedroom.

“You living, Eren?” The hand slices through my vision again, and I jerk away, eyes fluttering helplessly.

I’m confused, but it fades when the world around me realigns to what I’d always seen it as. Jean looks as he usually does, but older. It’s hard to explain. My throat closes again.

“The fuck you want, horsie?” I half-choke.

He snorts, like the damn horse he is.

“You looked like you were being molested by air, so I assumed I’d save you. What’s wrong with you?” I want to break his hand when he flicks the side of my head, but instead I take a good three steps back. My vision is still in a blurry place, tilting and twisting just before I blink. I watch a small frown pull at his lips, but for some reason it doesn’t register right.

“Sorry, the music’s a little loud, isn’t it?”

“Nah, you’re just not used to having so much activity in one place.”

“You’re fucking right I’m not,”

The frown reverts to his usual smirk. I’ve always hated that smug face, but at one point I sincerely loved him for it.

“So what do you want?”

“Armin brought you here, right?” I watch him lean against the hallway wall, directly beside his door. I’m surprised there’s no one else up here – aren’t parties usually pretty virus-like? You’d think it’d infect every room. But the only evidence of a party is the sounds from beneath my feet.

I nod, idiotically. I shouldn’t have, because I’m a little dizzy again.

“Good. He did his job for once,”

I tilt my head faintly, and again with the dizzy thing. The confusion is already making everything a little fuzzy.

“Job? Armin doesn’t have a job?” Wow, that sounded pathetic. He crosses his arms over his chest, but doesn’t seem to think over what I asked. I wonder if I ever really even said it. Slowly but surely, the mud in my brain is dissipating, leaving nothing but clarity. My legs are still weak, likely permanently affected by the vibrations in the great room. I truly hope they stop feeling like they’re magnets soon.

“That’s not important.”

I sort of understand that.

“I’m gay.”

Okay, _that_ I don’t understand. I nearly burst into laughing, still delirious from the party I was only involved in for five minutes. Gay? I was pretty sure he was straight. I mean, when I told him, he left me. When I told him I had _feelings_ for him, and legitimately cared about him in a romantic way, he outright told me he never wanted to see me again.

I guess people change?

But doesn’t he have a girlfriend or something?

“So? I don’t give a fuck,” Lie.

“You’re gay, right?”

This time, I cross my arms, trying to protect myself. At least, emotionally.

“No, Jean, I’m not _gay_. I’m simply queer.”

“Who gives a shit, you’d fuck a dude, right?”

Well, that was crude. I quietly look away. Yeah, I would – but not unless I knew them. And liked them that way. I’m not a slut.

“Jean, shut up,”

I nearly kick him square in the nuts when he unfolds his arms and steps closer to me. Suddenly his hands are on my shoulders, and my legs are like lead beneath me. I’m sure he would never be able to have children if I kicked him now.

“Eren—“

His eyes shift just beyond me, and a _look_ flashes in his eyes. I swallow any words, and my knees go solid once more. His expression becomes slack, like anything that was there before was suddenly wiped away. He steps back.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’ll see you around,” I don’t understand why he wants to talk to me at all – I was only recently beginning to accept that he didn’t want anything to do with me. I withhold stomping on his foot when he brushes by me, but instead stand still, drifting somewhere between _what the fuck_ and _fine, whatever_.

At last, I let the world come back to me again. I keep falling into other places. I’m wondering if it has to do with Levi.

I breathe in, inhaling the sweet scent of what I can guess is the cologne from Jean’s bedroom. He doesn’t really spritz it, more like he fucking pours it on himself.

I have the urge to go in there, probably find some playboy magazines and erase the whole “I’m gay” confession from my head. But who am I to say he’s not? Maybe the whole Mikasa thing was just a fake to make him seem straight?

He’s pretty close to that Marco guy. But why should I care?

When I come back to reality, I finally turn to leave. But I stop in my tracks, dead and center, when I realize just exactly what Jean was looking at.

My legs are back to lead. Well, fuck.

“So, horse is a fag, too?”

I almost throw a vase at him, but restrain myself. Fag? What kind of fucking language is that? I hate that word.

“You’re an asshole,” I state, like it’s the plainest thing on the planet. He sneers, but doesn’t do anything more, he tilts his head slightly, and the shadowy black of his hair slips over his forehead.

“Thanks for stating the fucking obvious, babe,”

“Don’t call me babe.”

“Don’t call me an asshole,”

“Don’t call Jean a fag,”

He inhales, as if he’s going to say more, but instead he gives me a smug smirk, just like Jean’s.

“Fine, you got me, babe,”

God fucking dammit, why can’t I throw the vase at him?

Again, with the whole “stepping back” thing. I nearly trip over my flats when he uncrosses his arms, shifting his foot down from the wall. He moves close to me in three swift strides, resembling a panther with each step.

“You sound like a teenager,” I mumble. I haven’t known him for longer than a day, but he seems too close. I feel like he knows everything about me, and it’s… unsettling. But in a good way.

“What do you think I am?”

“An old man. You smell like an old man,” I retort. Sadly, he doesn’t – he still smells like roses and smoke, that intoxicating blend he leaves everywhere.

“You smell like shit, Jaeger,”

“How do you know my last name?” I raise a brow at him, completely ignoring his shit comment.

“Magic.”

I can’t help but scoff. He thinks he’s fucking smooth, but really he’s just an asswipe. I finally lift a hand to press it to his chest, making a move to push him away. But instead, no strength comes to my arm. It just sits there, my fingers splayed over his shirt, pitch black beneath my fingertips. I feel his heart.

“You’re a bad magician, Levi.” Goddammit, that fucking grin. I suck in a breath, and hold it there.

“What kind of magic do you like?” For a long moment, his eyes are trapped with mine. One by one, I watch the cracks branch throughout that mask. I know he has one.

“I don’t believe in magic.”

Pretty neutral. The intensity vanishes, and my hand drops from his chest as he finally leans back. I don’t realize how muddled I am until I’m becoming aware again. My eyes drop from his eyes, to his lips, down his throat. He has a really nice throat. Okay, that’s a disturbing thought. What am I gonna do, rip his vocal chords out?

Maybe it’s the dip, the soft valleys of his collarbones, the way he swallows. It makes my heart pound. I clench my fists.

“You’re odd,” I whisper, lifting my eyes to his.

“Odd is good, yes?”

“Odd is odd, Levi.” I snort, a little awkward.

I feel wrong, being alone with him. There’s something predatory about him. Maybe it’s the way he’s so dark, the way he looks at me. It’s like his gaze is picking me apart, slurping on my bones, tasting my flesh.

I question if cannibalism is also a fetish.

“I-I… need to leave,” I breathe. I’m becoming aware of how terrifying this whole situation is. We’re in a hallway, a very finely decorated hallway, in my ex-best friend’s house, during a drug party. Before I can step away, he grabs my wrist, keeping me in place. I try to yank away, but his lips brush my ear, and I become ice.

“Stay away from that Jean kid.”

Is he telling me what to do?

“He’s not right for you,”

I tremble in his grasp. One by one, his fingers pry from my wrist, and he’s gone. I watch him leave.

Not right for me? Who the hell said I wanted to be with Jean? Definitely not me, hopefully not Mikasa.

Besides, he wants Marco. Marco is a wonderful boy – he was on the baseball team with Jean and I, and Marco would definitely take care of him. Like I would have, maybe even better.

But why the fuck does Levi give a flying fuck about whom I choose to like? Or rather, whom I accidentally like.

I collect the fragments of my sanity, and after a lot of consideration, I leave the hallway. Hopefully Armin and Mikasa are okay.

Hopefully I will be too.

 

 

 

 

 

I watch Eren the entire party. I’d been tempted to take him then and there – my plans were to wait a very, very long time before I actually hide him away. I’m sick of seeing other people look at him, I want him to myself.

The best way to do that is to isolate him.

Truthfully, if I could kill every last person that had touched him before me, I would. Not sexually, of course – Eren is a virgin, I’m sure of it. But simply touched him, made any sort of contact with him. It disgusts me, and makes my skin itch to know he had other people near him. I’m the only one who can touch him.

He doesn’t do any sort of drugs like the other people do, or drink a single drop of alcohol. I’m proud of him. One day, if my plans are in tact, he will be forced to take medicine. Or not forcefully, it depends on how he handles being taken in.

Although then, I wouldn’t have to medicate him.

When he finally leaves, it’s with Mikasa and that blonde coconut. I would kill that Ackerman bitch first. She’s related to me, but rather distantly. But the way she seems so possessive of him, clingy if you will. It makes me want to gut her slowly.

But that’s for another time. For now, I’ll watch. And dream. And fantasize.

 

 

[Date rape drugs can also cause seizures and even death. The most common date rape drugs -- also called "club drugs" -- are **flunitrazepam** ( **Rohypnol** ), also called roofies; gamma hydroxybutyric acid ( **GHB** ), also called **liquid ecstasy** ; and **ketamine** , also called Special K. These drugs may come as pills, liquids, or powders.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eren has Sensory Processing Disorder, for anyone interested c: I'm not good with describing it,,, so if anyone,,,, like wants to help me,,,,, totally cool with it,,,,,,


	5. I cant see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where it starts getting confusing;;;;
> 
> I've had someone ask me if there'll be smut in later chapters, and yes, there will be. Likely within the next five chapters. 
> 
> It's fairly slow build T___T i need to get Levi's story in place. 
> 
> Kenny and Kuchel are brother and sister. After Kuchel died, Kenny adopted Levi. How Mika knows about Kenny, you shall learn later <33

Truly, what happened the night before was more of a pain in the ass than a blessing. Of course, I had all types of feelings for Jean before he… disowned me, if you will, but that was before I knew him for what he was. We’d been close friends as younger kids, but after I started wearing skirts and he started hanging out with a certain group of assholes, I knew he was long gone.

It’s painstaking to assume he’d learned his lesson, or at the very least, come to understand how I felt. I hit an awkward point when I was only 7, already longing to wear what the other girls wore, wanting to paint my nails and pin my hair back, to be one of those pleasant girls who fluttered her eyelashes and had half the school at her feet.

I’d considered, at some point, that I, myself, was Transgender. But I don’t feel that way – I like what’s between my legs, and I certainly don’t feel wrong about it. I just wish it wasn’t considered so odd for wearing what I do.

I’d dreamed that Jean would accept this idea, but I was wrong. I already knew he was very religious, and his parents were rather homophobic. I remember going with him to church one day with his family, and hating it automatically. My parents and I aren’t necessarily very religious ourselves, but my mother does prey occasionally. My father is a man of science, which I adore about him. It’s the one thing I agree with about him.

There was a lot of hatred in that church. I know there are nicer churches out there, more accepting ones, but this one wiped any faith I had away.

It’s no surprise that Jean smiled through out the entire thing, and afterward pointed out very obvious things. It was clear to me he was hoping the service would change how I acted, or at the very least how I dressed.

He was very wrong. At that point, we drifted. I didn’t like him, and he didn’t like me. That much was clear, and eventually he let me know. I was at a point where I wondered if we were even friends – we didn’t talk to each other, and we definitely didn’t smile. I knew we wouldn’t talk to each other anymore for good after he pulled on my skirt and said those few words that would change my view on him entirely.

I still care for Jean. As a friend, of course – and I know he had never had any sort of feelings for me.

I shouldn’t let all of this worry me.

The run in with Levi was something much nicer to think about on the ride home.

I’ve done very little research on him as a whole, but I want to know as much as I can. There’s something odd, and yet so enticing about him. It makes me crave, and for what, I don’t know. He’s the definition of attractive, what with the sharp features and that _fucking voice._ God, that voice could tame beasts.

I wonder how he feels about me; he doesn’t seem to dislike me. He appears mostly when I’m alone, which worries me to an extent. It feels like he’s some sort of guardian angel. Truth be told, I needed one – and bad.

Before I can worry anymore over the night’s events, I’m dropped off rather unceremoniously. There’s no extended farewell, or Mikasa’s usual good night. If she’s not there, she always texts it. This is not one of those nights. Briefly, I ponder if she forgot, or if it was purposeful.

Just as I reach the last step to the door, there’s a soft tweeting from the band of my skirt. I jolt a little, and twist around for a moment, trying to figure out where the sound came from. It takes me being frustrated before I realize it’s my phone.

I’m so fucking muddled. I don’t understand why.

   
---  
   
---  
  
The screen is bright as fuck, nearly blinding me, so I turn it down, squinting hard down at the phone. A small furry ball brushes against the base of my middle finger, hanging from the top of the case. I’ve had it for nearly four years – it’s been on every single phone I’ve flown through. I’m very clumsy, and the screen is already cracked on this one.

I don’t text many people, nor do I give out my number, so my brows furrow with the new message. Instead of a contact name, it’s a set of numbers. A phone number.

**██-██-███: Meet me after school. Boy’s locker room.**

The first thing that hops into my mind is Levi. The only problem with that is he doesn’t have my number. It could be Jean… but why the Hell would he want to see me? Sure, he just came out to me about being gay, but does it matter that much to him that I know?

I breathe a harsh sigh.

I guess there’s really only one way to find out, right?

 

 

 

**;;Mikasa;;**

 

After we dropped Eren off, I snapped on Armin. I love him to death, but I _swear_ his plans can be far too risky.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” I ground out, pulling over before I can break something. My nails are digging hard into the leather wheel, trying my absolute best not to just rip it off and toss it out the window. Armin winces lightly, but makes a nervous laugh regardless. “That… that fucking monster-“

“Mikasa, we needed to get closer to him. Sometimes the only way to understand the hunter is to face him,” I hate that brain of his. Sometimes he goes too fucking _far._

I twist in the seat, grabbing Armin by the strings of his hoodie.

“What if Rivaille killed him? What would I do with you?”

“Mikasa-“

“Armin, you know I can’t live without Eren. Bringing Eren closer to the hunter is like begging to have him killed!” I let go of him with finality, sinking into the seat and gripping handfuls of my hair, soothing the little beast that even I have.

Eren is too young and too good to die. Especially by Rivaille.

Of course, I could always assume Rivaille has changed – but that’d be a stupid hope. What with everything Kenny has taught him, Rivaille is far away from being mentally stable. Riv is almost as good as a bomb, and those triggers Kenny embedded in him are all it takes to make him explode.

“Listen, I wouldn’t have let Levi hurt him.”

“His name is Rivaille,” I snarl. I hate that the bastard changed his name. He deserves to suffer with what his psychopath of a mother gave him as a name. “And it doesn’t matter if you would have let him. He’d find a way.”

“Mikasa-“ I let out a deep breath, and shake away the fury. Armin takes a step back too, figuratively, and I let him.

Maybe Armin is right. Not with letting Eren get so damn close, but we needed a lure. Rivaille would not have come unless Eren was there. Riv thinks Armin is his _ally_ , his eyes on the inside. Only he’s wrong – Armin is on my side, the good side, and the information he gives to Rivaille is only brief and important to be given.

I’m glad Rivaille can’t see through Armin. He seems like an innocent kid, but he’s not stupid. Innocence and stupid do not go hand in hand.

At long last, I start up the car again, and pull out of the grass. Armin lets out a long, relieved sigh. I flicker my eyes to the right, giving him a short glance as he tilts his head back against the seat.

“You’re right. We needed to see how he operated.”

In more than one way. Eren had missed a great deal of it – it seems Riv has a meter of some sort, the amount of time he can deal with conversation and interaction without snapping. It appears to be fairly short. Armin had managed to follow him, and got to watch a good thirty seconds of what seemed to be frantic attempts at calming himself down. Needless to say, Jean will have to buy a new grill. It was too bright a red, anyways.

Riv isn’t used to being able to talk to others. He isn’t used to social interaction in the slightest – and what little he did have as a child was violent and likely traumatizing. It didn’t help that he got put with Kenny.

“If we didn’t see, we wouldn’t know,” Armin says. For a moment, I see the look on Armin’s face after he came back inside, his outline illuminated by those flashing lights. There was nothing that needed to be said after that. I knew Riv hadn’t changed.

“We need to stop him.” Armin breathes.

 

 

 

**2 Years Earlier**

 

I can’t see. I can’t see. I can’t see.

It’s a steady mantra inside my head, a broken repeat. No matter how hard I try to delete the words from my brain, they keep going – if I blink, it feels like my sockets are on fire – blood drips onto my hands, planted on the concrete between my legs.

I can’t see – am I dead?

_I can’t see._

In moments like these, most people would be frantically clawing for that chance, any chance at all, to escape here. But what’s the point? I’m 16 now. I can live with it, it’s all I know now.

Although, at some point I’d wondered what was happening outside of here. It’s painful to question what’s happening now, because I don’t know anything else. If I understood and felt love and happiness, then maybe this situation would be entirely different. Maybe I would have jumped for that fucking _chance._

But for now, all I can comprehend is a set sound, a time, old voices, and the occasional punishment. For what, I never really know. Every day, at two specific times, Kenny comes downstairs and leaves food. I can comprehend small things, like tastes and the faint shadows that bunch into a corner, patiently waiting for my eyes to close, or the footsteps above. Occasionally I’ll hear Kenny’s next victim. Those are always the most interesting to listen to.

He’s not a good man.

I’d spent the entire afternoon and evening trying to fix the mess on my face, but I haven’t managed – I’d simply scratched a knife mark, and it began bleeding once again. Blood is in my eyes, and I can still taste the remnants of it. It’s disgusting, but it’s one of those few things I can grasp. It’s a part of the foundation that holds up my life. Another piece in the puzzle.

I barely register the sound of the door opening, and a light flickering overhead – it makes a soft buzzing noise, and a pop, then resumes silence. I lift my face, but the light is Hell on my eyes – I shuffle back deeper into the cage, and hit more metal.

“Have a good day, Rivaille?”

The same voice – Kenny.

I burry my face in my hands, trembling. I don’t fear him, but it’s too much. I’d prefer remaining in one place, not knowing anymore than a usual routine. He isn’t supposed to say that – he’s supposed to just leave the food, call me some name, and walk away. The light isn’t supposed to come on. I’m not supposed to be able to see his boots. But there they are, scuffed and barely holding on. Just like me. We’re alike, his boots and I – he walks all over me too.

“What, can’t speak?”

“Fuck you, Kenny,” I rasp.

I haven’t looked up until he crouches in front of the cage, hand gripping a bar. He’s as ugly as I remember.

“What? You pissed? It’ll heal later,”

Heal? Who gives a shit if my scars will heal? They weren’t deep, thankfully. They won’t be there for too long – just surface scratches, but it’ll still fucking burn for a while. And blood – in my eyes. It annoys me.

It’s the fact that he carved it into my fucking face. I didn’t eat. I wasn’t hungry. He hadn’t punished me in a long time, and if he did it was due to my stupid mouth. This time, it wasn’t as bad as some of the other things he’d done to me. It isn’t nice to have ‘faggot’ engraved into your forehead, though.

“That’s not important. I have a job for you, kid.”

Job. I haven’t had one of those in a very, very long time. Maybe the last one was… when I was 13? It’s not fun stitching up a girl. She was terrified, but I let it be. Her wounds were wide open, and Kenny doesn’t bother with that kind of thing – he gave me the chance to, if I wanted to. It’s not like I had anything better to do, and besides, I was a kid. I didn’t have anything but my morals. Now I have nothing.

I don’t speak, or respond. Kenny tilts his head, the shadow shifting over the concrete floor.

“There’s a boy… he’s related to you. Very distantly. He’s… thirteen, at the time,” I shift awkwardly in the cage as Kenny sits up a moment, abandoning the bar. He pats his pockets, and finally finds his phone.

After a few taps, he levels it at the cage’s entrance. Hesitantly, I uncurl from my spot.

I’ve never seen him before. The boy is equitably attractive. It should be a disgusting thought, considering he can’t be any older than 10 in the picture. I swallow.

“So what?” I choke. It’s hard making words. I haven’t seen many faces. It may explain why it’s so entrancing.

A young, tanned boy’s face is tilted upward, eyes pinched closed, nose scrunched. He appears to be pouting, and it’s ridiculous, almost comical. In an adorable way, obviously. I want to reach out, but I find no will. Besides, Kenny would beat me if I got blood on his phone.

“I want you to find him, and kill him.”

My breath catches instantly. I can’t kill him – I don’t care if he’s older now, I can’t _kill_ him. I’ve murdered before, but this – this is purity. I’m sure of it.

“No.”

“I’ll let you go.”

It hits me square in the gut. I feel my bones rattle with the impact, the mere _idea_ that I can leave. It’s far, far too much.

“Find him. Kill him.”

“You’re a fucking monster,” I snarl. He chuckles, and pulls away to switch to another picture. This time, it appears to be an older picture. He’s not necessarily petite, but a fair size. He’s in a large sweater, bright green, draping far past the acceptable limits. It exposes nearly the entirety of his shoulders, and the skirt beneath it is too short.

He’s beautiful. Not in a lustful way, but the awkward little tilt of his head, the precious smile – it makes all sorts of emotions well up.

When was the last time I felt passionate about something? Never. I’ve never been sincerely interested in anything, and this is startling as it is.

His eyes.

I can see everything in those two beautiful pools of emerald. Stars, galaxies, entire universes. Perhaps other dimensions, maybe one where I’m happy.

It’s there, in those eyes, that I find my first emotion.

Love.

There’s no other word for the kind of warmth I feel.

“You can do it?”

“I can.”

I won’t.

“We’re moving in a few months. I’ll enroll you in that school on your senior year. You’ll be a French transfer student. Get close to him, and kill him.”

“I will.”

I won’t.

I can’t see. I can’t see. _I can’t see anything but him._


	6. Following Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may add another chapter to Raining on my Parade;;;;
> 
> so yall smut needers bout to get soma dat good sheit
> 
>  
> 
> [in other news, I'm a little more dead inside than last update, and if anyone wants to beta this pls send halp. [my tumblr](http://www.life-whatlife.tumblr.com)]

The next morning could easily be described as Hell. Well, every morning is a new kind of Hell – that’s why normal people sleep them off. I wake up later than I usually do, and end up having to throw random things on. In other words, the uniform, but with messy hair and messy makeup. I don’t even really bother to look in the mirror save for two minutes to actually get it on, but I don’t examine anything in the slightest. For all I know I’ve smudged orange all over my face and I could be the next president.

The school is a mess, too; everyone looks like zombies. Well, not necessarily everyone – a few actually had the mind to go and not get high as a fucking kite, and some weren’t even invited. I’m kind of proud of those kids. If I was their parents I would either be signing them up for dating apps already, because even I know they probably won’t get too far in that department.

I’m just being an ass, like always.

First block is Family Dynamics. I learn that it’s not okay for boys to wear dresses, and raising your hand to be bridesmaid is a dumb idea. Especially if you have a dick.

Well, then.

Second block, I sleep the entire time – what? It’s just Algebra. I can live without Algebra, especially if I’m pretty sure I don’t want to do anything with my life anyways. I’ll probably just hurl myself off a metaphorical (or literal) cliff by the time I’m twenty.

But that’s no one’s concern.

Third block is the time it hits me that I still have to go to the boy’s locker room. I could already be late, considering the fucker _never gave me a time,_ but thankfully there’s an unspoken rule that meetings between students happen during third block. This rule is mostly due to the fact that it’s the only block we have free time, and the only time the boy’s locker isn’t locked up, which is slightly ironic, personally.

I leave my book bag in my fourth block class for good measure, and tell the teacher I may be slightly late. She’s a cool lady, and most of the time her answer is a small little nod. She’s always ankle deep in paper work, partially the reason why we rarely do anything interesting in her class aside from – guess – paperwork.

I wouldn’t be surprised if she wouldn’t care I disappeared from the face of the planet. She’d probably still be quite concerned over other more important things, like the weather.

The trek across the football field is ass, because it’s damn near Spring and it’s starting to get a little warm. I hate that here; it’s always so fucking hot, someone might as well melt me already to get it over with.

When I reach the boy’s locker room, I’ve already developed at least fifty decent scenarios in my head. It could be a serial killer, or Jean (least acceptable), or Levi. From those scenarios, many other things could happen. I could die, I could get beat to pulp, I could have my throat ripped out.

This is why I don’t have friends.

I push the door open, and peek inside. The boy’s locker room is usually pretty dark if it’s before gym classes or field, but it’s not in this cases. The lights are on full blast, and it smells faintly of sweet smoke. It fills my lungs, almost like my mom’s cooking. It makes me want to come in more, and if I remember correctly, some predators are quite wonderful with luring the prey in with aromas.

Apparently I’m wrong – and there is no predator, from what I see. Pushing the door open more is a pain, but there doesn’t appear to be anything keeping it closed. There’s a good chance I’m just a weakling.

“Hello?” I call out, pushing the door closed with my butt. I don’t hear any response.

Maybe I should just go back to lunch. Someone could have easily gotten my number from a friend of mine and tried to prank me. I’m not exactly popular, not with girls or boys, because I’m so damn quiet and weird.

I wait a moment, peering around the lockers and in the shower. Why the Hell am I looking around? If they aren’t in plain sight, they don’t have good intentions – and bad intentions suggest I should probably leave. I breath a harsh sigh through my nose, nostrils flaring.

Well, that’s shit.

I whirl on my heel, preparing to leave, but I smack directly into a firm chest. How many people am I going to run into? What kind of trickery is this? Hands shoot out to steady me before I can either punch someone or fall over, and based off of the feather light weight I feel in my gut it would’ve been the second.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Jean says, breath fluttering against my cheek. Is he laughing at me? Asshole. I could’ve died.

I promptly shove him away, peering up at him with mild distaste.

“Woah _what_? You fucking jumped out at me!”

“Actually, no. I just got here.”

I roll my eyes, dissatisfied with his “excuse”. I don’t trust Jean or anything he has to say to me. Developing a love-hate relationship from a simple crush is very intense, to be honest. This is just proof. Used to, I would’ve fallen over and died blushing, but now all I can feel is a indistinct burst of hatred every once in a while.

“So you’re the random texter?”

“Yeah, Armin gave me your number last night.”

 _Armin._ That little blond rat! I sneer up at the older male, and finally decide I had no point in coming. A small part of me hoped it’d be Levi.

What do I want from Levi, anyways?

I attempt to leave, but Jean grabs my forearm. An even larger part of me wants to smash his nose in and bash his brains, but I use the blunt edge of my will power to scrape that out the crevasses of my brain.

“Come on, Eren,” he begs, tugging me a little towards him.

“What do you even want?” I snap. I try to wrench my forearm from him again, but I’m about as feeble as a newborn deer, so instead I make a fool of myself. He sneers at me, the same look I’d given him before. The urge to hurt him just gets worse.

I swear I’m being mentally trained to become a serial killer.

Slowly, a serious veil settles over his face.

“Levi.”

I roll my eyes. He wants to talk about his competition? Levi could kick his ass, I’m nearly sure of it. Sure, Jean’s an athlete, but Levi has a dangerous flare. I’d bet millions that Levi has planned murders.

“He’s none of your business, horse,” he cringes with the use of _horse_. He has a long face, and everyone sort of knows where to jab him. You’d think he’d get used to it, but there’s no sort of defense. Maybe it’s just me saying it.

“Levi isn’t good for you.”

So what? It’s not like I’m hunting for Levi. If anything, it feels like he’s hunting for me. It isn’t really up to him who or what I want. It would’ve been different if he hadn’t abandoned me when I needed him most.

“Your proof? You don’t know him, or me anymore. Maybe a few years ago you did, but I’ve changed.”

“So have I, Eren.”

My stomach collapses inwards when he says my name. He knows better. I don’t want him ever saying it again – it’s become to personal, especially from him. I force my arm against his grip, and he takes a shaky step back.

“I don’t care!” I snarl.

“Listen. He’s not _safe-“_ This time, I participate in that urge I’d been getting the whole five minutes I’ve been here, him before me. I rip my arm free, and jam the flat of my palm into his stomach. He stumbles a little, breath sputtering.

Thank God. I don’t want his fucking breath on me, and he was being too much.

I stand straight, nearly rocking on my heels, trying not to succumb to the newest urge I have – to beg for forgiveness. I’m a mess of emotions.

“He’s going to hurt you,” Jean rasps, a last cry for me to hear him out.

“How?” I push him, this time not physically. I think smacking him gave him the idea that I don’t want him too close. He rubs his stomach, wincing.

“Bet you bruised me, you snarky fuck-“

 _“How?”_ I demand.

At last, he breaks.

“He isn’t _normal_. Armin and Mikasa agree with me – they’re both freaked by him.”

“I haven’t known Levi for more than three days, how the fuck do they know anything about Levi?”

It’s a good question, for once. Have they been watching Levi since before then? What’s so important about him that everyone has to step in on it, even this horse? Jean has never really cared about me, and now that he’s stepping in again I know either Armin is paying him to care or Jean is truly concerned.

Jean stops with the question. He appears to not know how to answer, which is a surprise in itself. He usually knows exactly what to say, but apparently now is not that time.

He draws in a thick breath, his brows drawing together.

“Truth is, Eren, I still love you. As a friend.”

Did he really think that’d make anything better? As a _friend?_ Did he think I still even cared how he felt about me, because I _don’t._ I don’t, I don’t, I don’t!

“So let me take care of you. Okay?”

More fury rises in my throat. I try to swallow, but I end up drowning in it.

“No.”

His expression crumples like paper, as if he’s actually _pained_. I don’t believe assholes like him feel anything anymore. He left me. He abandoned me, like I was some kind of – what? – Some kind of _animal._ He put me in a cage, and left me in the woods alone.

He didn’t stand up for me.

I take a step back, and another. My steps are loud to myself, just like everything else is.

“Eren-“

I take off, making sure to push the door shut behind me.

He doesn’t follow.

 

 

 

 

 

Eren wasn’t where he usually was during third block – it caused plenty of mental pandemonium for me the rest of the day. I looked everywhere, every single classroom, but he was nowhere.

In a burst of extreme terror, I asked the coconut where he was.

_He’s doing what needs to be done._

I don’t usually trust the coconut, but he’s very close to Eren. He knows what I want, and he knows who I _really_ am. Of course, I wasn’t the one who told him – the Ackerman bitch told him.

_What needs to be done? Spit it out, shitstain._

After fourth block, I found him. His mascara was like ashy rain down his pinkish cheeks – he held his books close, head tilted down to hide it. It was easy to spot if you were looking for it.

_It’s nothing important, Rivaille. He’s just dealing with Jean._

It was Jean.

_Jean._

I followed him home that day, making sure he followed that strict like he always has. If he veers off course, I’m blocking him. If I have to knock him out, I will.

_I’m taking Jean out._

Maybe I’m being too dramatic for this. Eren is _mine_ , and if someone hurts what’s mine, they burn. And if they burn, they burn slowly, and I get the best seat in the house. Maybe Eren will thank me later for it.

_No, you’re not. If you kill, you’ll draw attention to the school. Keep yourself in check, or you loose Eren._

It doesn’t serve to calm my nerves at all. Eren’s house is how I imagined it – small and comfortable, shutters a cream white and exterior walls a washed out bluish gray. It peaks in three different areas, and the garage is wide open for anyone to peer in.

Needless to stay, I camp outside of his house that night. I wish I could just walk in and lay in the same bed as him, but wouldn’t that just be creepy?

_Fine. But Horse will get shut up if he doesn’t shut up on his own._

I have enough sense not to peek in on him. I’d feel wrong if I did – I wouldn’t sin against Eren like that.

Sadly, sense doesn’t always win out for me.

By nearly 9 pm, Eren finally goes to his room, and begins undressing to sleep. His silhouette slants over the grass, gold framing his body from the lamp he keeps on his desk. Automatically, my first thought contemplates the fact he keeps the window open each night like this, even when he’s undressing. Secondly, I wonder how he looks bare. Third, I wonder how intrusive thoughts like the second one can burn in Hell.

Sense does not win out.

I’ve only missed a small part of the show, really. I shouldn’t feel embarrassment or shame, but Eren has taught me that as well. He’s taught me more than I’d ever hoped to learn.

He’s beautiful.

Well, that much is obvious. My body tenses, fingertips pressed against the glass. Are boys supposed to look like this? What am I supposed to know, aside from the bloody masses that Kenny brought to the basement?

He never brought any boys. He didn’t swing that way.

Eren’s body is a fine, delicate type of curvy – his hips flare, but just slightly. It’s subtle and so very hypnotizing. My throat tightens. Every sensible part of me begs me to look away, but sadly, it doesn’t win out again.

Shorts slip down his legs, slumping on the wooden floor. Fuck.

I have so little control to want to smash my fist against something, at least. Maybe then this type of feeling wouldn’t be so intense.

His legs are long, nearly feminine – thighs delectable plush, the remaining panties clinging to his hips, far too small to cover what panties should. Or maybe it does cover what it should, and I’m just too ashamed to admit it and I’m being prude.

I’m sad to see him pull on a shirt over everything though. Thankfully it doesn’t cover anything below his thighs, and I still get to watch the graceful sway of his hips.

When his lights go off, I slide down the wall, tilting my head back against it.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Sex has always been disgusting to me. It’s defiling the body, and Kenny taught me most of that. I’ve heard the sounds women make, and it’s always only made me feel like puking.

Maybe that’s just how Kenny played them, then broke them. Perhaps I’ve always been sexually interested, I just haven’t know what that kind of attraction felt like because I’ve never seen how the body should look, not mutilated or broken.

When I see Eren, I see cleanliness and purity. All of those women have been tainted with Kenny or other men, most of them were even prostitutes. There’s a chance I’m simply addicted to Eren’s purity.

Yes. That has to be it.

_Armin. Has Eren had sex?_

 

 

 _[“Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you._  
_Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you._  
_And without feet I can make my way to you,_  
_without a mouth I can swear your name._  
  
_Break off my arms, I'll take hold of you_  
_with my heart as with a hand._  
_Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat._  
_And if you consume my brain with fire,_  
_I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood.”_  
_― Rainer Maria Rilke]_


	7. Hell is Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK! An update! Su r p r i se
> 
> I know, crazy right?  
> Anyways, the reason for such a h ELLA late update is in due (entirely) to family issues and being unceremoniously tossed into an Independent Living GH, so I've been pretty busy as of late =_= And I'm slightly more dead inside, so this will be interesting, right?  
> So, this entire chapter is Armin's POV (boring, right), but the next will be entirely in Levi's. There's gonna be some interesting contact between Levi and Eren next chap, so be prepared c:  
> Enjoy!

It’s late in the night when Levi stops responding, not long after making a regret on Jean’s life. A part of me is terrified he may actually go down there and murder him – Levi knows where he lives, it’d be easy to him. The other part, however, knows that Levi is too smart to risk that kind of thing. Not only had Levi automatically assumed Jean was after Eren, whom he considered his property, but Jean had a history with the brunet boy, and a bad one.

Levi is practically insanity released, after that. Knowing what Mikasa knows, Kenny was very wrong in releasing Levi without a leash. She would have preferred if the man got caught, and Levi put, rightfully, in a mental hospital, where he belonged – maybe then, after tough treatment and trauma therapy, he’d be a positive impact. But right now, he’s not safe.

He’s a time bomb – homicidal, to the tenth power. Holding him back would be like holding back a bull with a stick, if someone touched Eren wrong. Or even looked at him wrong.

It’s fifteen minutes later, just when I’m assuming he’s gone, that another text comes in. One I don’t expect in the slightest: has Eren had sex?

I nearly drop my phone.

What he had towards Eren was purely emotional. I’m beginning to fear Levi is actually  _ attracted _ to Eren, physically as well. If that’s the case, then what else could he do? Eren would be too embarrassed to say he’d been raped, or touched wrong. I swallow thickly, thumb hovering over the phone’s screen.

There isn’t anything I can do without Mikasa’s help. She’s the Ackerman – she knows Levi, and Kenny, and Kuchel – she knows their entire story, and why Levi is the way he is. I don’t even know how to answer this.

Feeling powerless is the hardest thing. It was bad when the house burned down and my parents died, but now… I can’t lose my friends, either.

I have to be strong, and careful. I’ve wanted to just call the police since I got put here, but Kenny has connections. He’s not a criminal to anyone but us. He cleans his messes well, and the only people who’d get hurt is my reputation and Mikasa’s. We can’t call wolf until the wolf bites.

_ I wouldn’t know. Why, Levi? You know better. _

It’s true – I don’t know if Eren has had sex or not. If I’d said no, which I’m confident is the more likely answer, then he’d become more fascinated. If I answered yes, he may become angry, and I can’t risk either of those options. I’m balancing on a thin ledge, and one wrong move will take everyone on the edge with me. Even Eren – who won’t even know he’s on a ledge until he’s gone.

It doesn’t take long to get a response, but it’s not what I want. Nothing near to what I want. A picture – of Eren’s room. In the dark.

My throat closes in again, and I can barely breathe.

_ Why are you there. That’s trespassing. _

Sure, like a small little law is going to stop Levi Ackerman, obsessed with a boy he’d kill half the neighborhood for just a moment to stand beside him. He has a one track mind, and that’s success. Consequences may not be important to him when he’s high on need like that.

_ I was making sure he was safe. _

Levi is the only person Eren would need to be safe from. I refrain from texting that, even if it’s the truth. Reality doesn’t sit well with psychopaths.

_ He’s safe, Levi. If anything happened to him, his parents would be there to help. _

_ Those idiots? The husband is a man-whore. _

Mikasa’s dad, in other words. I breathe a soft sigh. There’s a lot of history with Grisha and Karla, relating to the Ackermans – it may as well be a feud.

_ I know, but stalking Eren won’t make him love you. Go home and rest. So you won’t be tired, and you’ll look better for him. _

I know he contemplates it, because the text has a R beside it for a good three minutes, before he begins responding. I hope, so very much, that he’ll agree and go home, but what’s stopping him from saying no? I still want to call the police, tell them the address and have them come pick the freak up and arrest him, but I can’t. Who’s to say Levi will be gone before then? I could always keep him on the phone, but I’m bad at lying. I can’t keep him occupied long enough.

_ You’re right.  _ I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I slowly tilt my head back against the wall, thankful for those two sweet words. He believes me – he thinks I’m doing it for his best interest and not Eren’s.

_ Get some sleep. You need it. _

He doesn’t respond again, and I decide I can rest easy after going to the kitchen and grabbing a glass of milk. When I return to bed, there’s no response, and my bed is already calling to me.

I should probably just go to sleep, too – Levi will stay away from Eren, hopefully, for the rest of the night.

Hopefully, I say, because I can’t predict anything the other boy does.

 

 

 

 

 

The bell rings just as 11 am comes around the corner, in all it’s tired, half-sleepy glory. I can barely lift my head from the desk, and I never sleep in class. If I do, it’s because I finished the work far quicker than everyone else, and I’m fully energized.

My run-in with Levi the night before left me drained. Mikasa had picked me up this morning, and I’d explained the whole night to her, even showed her the picture he took of Eren’s dimly lit room. She’d blanched, her knuckles turning whiter than they usually are around the wheel. I swore she was inches from running off the road and turning back just to hunt him down.

Mikasa’s growing fidgety. She has no clue what to do – and I don’t either. We may as well both be stumped.

We’d planned much before. One of our precautions was that we’d have to tell Eren, if Levi became to hostile. I felt her beginning to consider it.

We can’t tell him, not yet – if Eren knows, he’ll hate Levi, and right now, I’m sure Eren is attracted to the senior. I’m sure every girl in the school is, too. He’s only been in the school for a few months, and he’s already drawn the attention of everyone.

We’re running down on options. Before, we were hoping Levi would be content with just having close proximity, not too close but not too far, either. A friend, maybe. We were wrong. Then, we began hoping that we could trap Levi, maybe get rid of him on our own. Wrong, again – we learned he was no sucker, and he definitely wasn’t weak. All we can do is hold off the beast until we can come up with another plan, that’ll take Levi and Kenny down. If we took Levi down, Kenny would come after all of us.

Eren, included. I forgot why he sent Levi on Eren and not gone after him himself. I know that, in part, Kenny doesn’t want to finish a dirty job he doesn’t entirely want to do. And if Levi got caught, he could easily slide by as the distressed uncle that adopted him and had just moved from out of country to see about a better life for a stressed teen.

Aside from that, none of us know a thing about all of this. Not enough.

I manage to lift myself from my desk, and file into the hallway without the teacher waving me down and begging to know why I’m so off my game today. I know exactly why, it’s just something she couldn’t know. 

In the hall, hundreds of bodies bump and bustle, trying to get to next class before the bell rings, or to their girlfriend’s class, just for a little kiss. 

Gross. 

It isn’t long before Levi is beside me, following in step. His class was just a few doors down, and we usually have some sort of run-in during the day. I had completely forgotten, so when I feel him come near, I nearly run.

“Where’s Eren?”

“On the first floor,” I say. I’m sure he would know that, right?

“Right.” I haul my bag more onto my shoulder, also managing to put better space between us. He doesn’t get a lot of social cues, does he? “Do you know how he is? I’ve been to busy to check,”

“He’s fine, Levi.”

It’s odd, hearing from a psycho that he wants to make sure someone is okay. Sometimes I forget he’s not a stalker, that he’s just a sweet boyfriend wanting to know how his boyfriend is doing. 

The hallway is far too loud. It’s making me stupid. 

“How do you know?”

“He texted me an hour ago,” I’m starting to sound frustrated, and that’s never good. I can’t get frustrated - Levi probably has an arrange of disorders, and maybe one of them includes being unable to agree. Maybe ODD?

Yeah, that’s right - stick labels to uncomfortable feelings, like I always do when everything feels wrong. 

Before I can say anything else, Mikasa is there too, at my other side, likely coming from her fourth period - French. Immediately, hair raises on the back of my neck, feeling both of their crushing Ackerman intensity. Gods, why do they have to be so  _ intense _ ? Why can’t we all just love each other and be nice and calm?

“Stay away from Eren.” Mikasa says, right off the bat. She does that everytime she’s close enough to Levi for him to hear anything she says. “He’s stressed as it is. He doesn’t need a relationship.” 

“Say that to horse,” he snarls back. We come to the end of a hall, and Levi’s the first to push open the double doors, letting us into the stairwell. I’ve always hated the stairs, mostly because I’m anxious of falling and smashing my head on something - another kid, even. “That thing stares at Eren. It’s an abomination.”

“What you have is an abomination too, then. Jean isn’t trying to  _ kill  _ you, is he, for Eren?” I try to input some realistic thoughts, for once. It backfires.

“Eren is my right.” 

“Burn in Hell, psycho.” Mikasa says, dully, from my other side. 

In his head, Eren probably is his right - maybe Kenny had put that there, so he’d play with his food before he got bored and ate it, too. Just to hurt Grisha and Carla more. It’d make sense, then. Or maybe Kenny never wanted Levi to love Eren like this, or at all, and all of it comes from Levi alone. I’d feel less obliged to hate him if that was the case. As it is, I already feel sympathy. 

He’s mentally ill, confused, and this is his first time in years being above ground. I can’t imagine, from what Mikasa described Kenny as, what his childhood life was like. I can’t imagine the scars, mentally and physically. 

“I’ve already been to Hell, schoolgirl.”

Like that, he’s already at his next class, just at the base of the stairs. I watch him leave, and so does Mikasa, fury in her iron eyes. 

“He’s getting too persistent,” Mikasa mutters. 

We don’t say anymore, until I’m at her class. She reminds me to keep him under watch, text him as much as I can, and stay vigilant. She promises to talk to Jean later.

I worry for her, even when she’s here, now. I never know about her for sure anymore. She’s an Ackerman, too - her mother was the same as Levi’s mother, and she was the one with the mental illnesses that caused this entire mess before, with Grisha. If Levi inherited that kind of insanity, how easy would it be that she did, too?

But Levi had a lot of reason to show it. Levi had likely been beaten and hated most of his life, kicked around like a puppy, while Mikasa is growing up in a good home. One that loves her, and would do anything to make her life worthwhile. 

Environments are crucial in the development of mental illnesses, right? 

I sit at my seat, and my head comes down on the desk again.


	8. Borderline Insane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye lookey there itsa new chapter;;;  
> Thank you so much for keeping up with this ~! I’m losing drive to write and it sucks so bad XD Hopefully I’ll start finding interest again. In other news, I got put on medicine that makes me hella spacey. It’ll be harder to write now, but I’ll be trying! ♥  
> And yes, Levi’s skipped a few bases.  
> Thank you so much again, for reading. You make me so happy ♥  
> Music muse: Lund – Broken  
> (And I'm so sorry it's hella short! This is sort of like a fill in. The next chapter, I swear, will please u babies.)

I’m beginning to lose any form of patience I had with the blonde and the other Ackerman. Before, I had hoped they would stay out of my way, but Mikasa knows who I am, and specifically what I’m here for. She knows what I need from Eren, not what I want.

And she’s becoming hostile. I want to go ahead and put her down, but I know that’ll hurt Eren. If I hurt either of them, who’s to say Eren won’t start cutting ties with everyone else, becoming a town recluse? Then again, my entire family is filled with town recluses, so I’m sure I could make arrangements for that type of behavior. No one would miss him, save for his mother and father.

So with these two developments – my failing patience and Eren’s likely depression, I can only keep on the same track I’ve been on. Get close to him, gain his trust, and become part of his life the _natural_ way. If that doesn’t work – Mikasa and Armin will have to be ended, because they have connections to me, and then I’m taking Eren where no one could find him.

I’d hate to take his freedom.

But thankfully, the Eren Crew seem to let me do what I want. I know the blonde – Armin – isn’t on my side, though he chooses to act like it. It’s obvious he’s trying to seem like he’s on my side. Trying to become my ally. I’m not that easily manipulated, though I’d like to let him think he has control over me. Maybe then he’ll let me stray closer to Eren without raising alarm. Jean and Mikasa together couldn’t take me down, but police could.

That’s my biggest problem – the police. If they become too uneasy, they’ll bring police into the picture. I know that my uncle will try his best to seem a good man, what with his connections, but connections can only go so far. All of this is dependent on if I can make Eren run away with me in the first place.

I make a point to be in his range of sight as much as I can. For the next two weeks, we speak rarely – occasionally at his locker, where he seems to try and wipe me off his shoulder like a fly, but slowly he begins to show more and more interest. I know Jean speaks to him once or twice about me, but Eren erases it from his mind like a non compliant child. Good boy.

I know I’m becoming a significant part of his life, and it empowers me. Armin and Mikasa can’t push me away if Eren has me drawn in, because his gravity is stronger than theirs. He’ll start to question why they’re so avid about getting rid of me, and if he knew about me, he’d know about his parents and what happened with my mother. And, to them, that’s a last resort. There’s also the fact he won’t believe them. He likes to ignore things he doesn’t want to believe.

Regardless, with extreme pleasure, I’m happy to say we’ve already started texting.

As someone with little social interaction throughout my childhood, this is a massive step. Within a few days, I’ve already learned interesting things about Eren. He has one of Jean’s sweaters (much to my disdain), drinks coffee with milk and tons of sugar, hates tea (again, to my absolute disdain), takes fifteen minute showers, and he loves animals. I get pictures. Lots of them. He takes selfies, and it’s annoying but adorable at the same time.

At first, I’m continuously fearful that I may say something wrong. Eren is, surprisingly, very understanding. Although he never asks anything of my life, he knows things about me, too. He knows I don’t sleep well, that I love tea, and I have a fear of tight spaces. He doesn’t know why.

Mikasa and Armin don’t know about these conversations. I’m hopeful that he doesn’t mention it to them, or they’d be furious. They’d understand what I’m trying to do.

Really, what I’m actually doing is falling deeper and deeper in this dark place in my head. Intrusive thoughts attack me from every side every time he sends those pictures. Bright emerald eyes, sweet smile, sunlight from a morning’s kiss across his cheeks. I imagine slicing up his face into little ugly strips, breaking his legs like my uncle had done to his visitors. He would never run from me again.

I close out of every single picture the moment these thoughts even so much as caress my mindspace. I erase it, like Eren does the unhappy memories, and watch them burn in that violent place. That dark place.

 _You’re not crazy,_ my mind whispers. It’s a promise, as those notes – blood, Eren’s screams, broken fingers – burn in that place. _He made you this way. They made you this way._

I want it to yell to me, not whisper. It’s tiring, thinking I’m insane all the time. I just love Eren. I need him. I don’t want to hurt him.

There are two people in my head, now – one that hates him, and one that loves him, and they’re both just as strong. I sometimes fear I’m only getting close to him so I can hurt him, and I’m not sure I want to, either.

Do I want to hurt anyone, in the first place?

_L: Eren, am I odd?_

_E: Odd is good, sometimes._

_L: Didn’t you say once that odd is odd?_

_E: That was before I knew you._

_L: You don’t know me._

Do I know me? Whoever did? My mother did, once, before she took her life. I feel like she always did. The extreme emotions, how she sat at my father’s feet and begged for him to hit her harder, to please him. What did they say, those police men, as they rolled my mother’s body out on a stretcher? I was shivering in a cop car, tears streaking down my face. Blood was on my hands, and my father was screaming, being dragged out in close succession behind my mother’s body. _Borderline Personality Disorder. The whole family has it. Isn’t that odd?_

Odd.

I don’t have a disorder. I love him, I hate him, I need him, I can’t _stand_ him.

_L: Sometimes I feel sick._

_E: Sick? How so?_

_L: I don’t know. It feels weird._

_E: Don’t die on me, now. I’m starting to like you._

_L: No you don’t._

_E: I do, though. I really like you._

_L: You have odd interests._

I do, too. I guess we know each other in small, insignificant ways.

_E: So we’re both odd, now, right?_

_L: Whatever you want me to be._

I felt him sink, too. I felt him scrabbling for that surface, hoping he wouldn’t become part of me like he’s become part of me. But insanity is attractive to some, in a way that a broken doll may appear aesthetic to a sad person. Eren is sad. I’m borderline crazy. _You’re not crazy,_ it whispers back, furious in my ear. I bat the voice away, even if it is my own conscience. I hate that voice, my own.

_E: I want you to be a lot of things._

_L: Elaborate._

_E: Tomorrow. On the football field, during lunch. How does that sound?_

_L: Sounds fine. Now, go to sleep. It’s late._

_E: Yes, sir~_

Like that, he’s gone. I’m in my room again, on my bed, in this dimly lit room my uncle had given me permission to sleep in once I began my mission. I’m back in the room with a million eyes, all of them green and taped to my wall.

 

 

 

_File 37: Concerning Texts between Victim and Defendant_

_On ████ █,███, at exactly █:██:██, Victim ███ ████ sent a picture containing what may be considered “sexually provocative” material to the defendant. The victim is shown in what appears to be midday light, licking his left middle finger, winking. His right shoulder is entirely exposed due to ill-fitting clothing. Defendant has no comment towards the picture._

_[Open Attachment]_


	9. Mine, Mine, Mine, Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i'm caught up on season 2 and i am ded

I don’t know what happened.

Surprising, right? The emotionally fucked teenager, who can feel himself slowly fall into an abnormal, unprovoked depression, suddenly finds himself wanting to talk to someone he used to be scared of. Not really scared of – but I didn’t feel necessarily positive towards him, not at first.

It was mixed, and one day, we spoke for moments at a time. The next day, he had my number, and after that, there was no dark aura to be afraid of. I felt a new confidence, knowing he didn’t see me for what I really was. He heard my words with no tone, and thus only had that to go off – words.

I think I started liking him, but I don’t know for sure. I sent him pictures, nothing really extreme. I’m not an idiot. Even the strange boys can be bad. But he did get the blunt of my artistic photography. I got very vague compliments, which lead me to want more. I got pictures from him, too.

I already knew he was handsome. Anyone who could see also knew he was perfect. But his pictures brought out a vulnerable part of him, and I loved it. No one else saw the pictures I received, the awkward grin he has, the way he runs his fingers through his hair when he’s nervous.

 I also already knew he had girls on his tail – the bad-boy lovers, specifically. He doesn’t talk to anyone much, seems to keep to himself, but people want to get close to him. I’m the only person he really talks to, and the attention is wonderful.

And one day, I felt something possess me to ask him to meet me, alone. I had lost fear for him a long time ago. He doesn’t seem like Jean, or any other boy I’ve ever met. It drives me crazy, trying to analyze him. Every word we make between each other is another moment I spend wondering why he would say it, what kind of person says those kinds of things.

I learned he has no type, and he is no “type”. He is Levi.

Which means, ultimately, I’m his type, because I belong to no one.

The day after I asked him to meet me, I kept away from Armin and Mikasa. I know they don’t like him, nor does Jean, but I never bothered trying to figure out why. I can assume it’s for the same reason I was afraid of him – he just has this _feeling_ , this overwhelming sensation that he puts on everyone around him. I had run away from it before, now I’ve embracing it. It makes me feel safe, and dangerous all at once, like standing on an edge with a fence. The view is beautiful, too.

But I don’t trust him, either.

I keep my phone on me, and a knife in the waistband of my skirt.

During lunch I sneak out through the gym’s back door, and because the football field isn’t that far from the gym, it’s only a short walk across a staff parking lot. I know automatically that we’ll be the only two on the field, which means I won’t be spotted talking to him, and thus, there’s no way for Mikasa or Armin to find out. If they did, I’d be stuck having to explain myself.

Thankfully, he was there before I was. He sat on the tenth stair of the bleachers, scrolling through something on his phone. I’ve never found any sign of him being on social media, which is odd for teenagers. I did, however, learn that he has a few other contacts. I don’t know who, but he has them.

He doesn’t look up until I sit beside him. He doesn’t just look up, no – he snaps his head up, eyes an odd sort of empty. I feel my throat close, and suddenly I wonder if it was right to come out alone. Slowly, the emptiness clears up, and so does the confusion. My heart unclenches, as does my fingers.

“Hey,” he pauses, then adds, “For a boy who wears heels, you’re very stealthy.”

I smile, and this time, it’s not fake. It’s a strange feeling, being able to smile without having to force it.

“Practice,” I respond. I blank out, staring up at the older boy. I notice the birth mark on his throat, a small speck of black, and from this vantage point, I can tell he’s tired, but in an attractive way. I don’t know how to explain it, but whatever it is, I quite like it.

“Oh? So who’ve you been stalking lately, then?” He asks. There’s an odd undertone to it – too personal.

“I’d have to kill you if I told you,”

“It’d be a nice ending, but I’d have to decline.”

I cross my legs, letting my bag slump on the metal seat beside me. The day is beautiful – it’s Summer, by now, and only a few weeks of school remains. In other words, Levi will be graduating very soon. I’ll never see him again, or maybe I will. Really, it’s up to him, and I hate having that kind of power outside of my hand.

“Eren, what do you want us to be?”

I look away from the emerald green field, back to those two shards of glass. I wonder what would happen if I shattered them – would he feel it? I tilt my head a little, brushing my fingers over my pleated skirt only to begin pulling on a loose piece of the hem. I twirl the string around my finger, feeling the blood drain from the digit.

“It’s a hard thing to choose,” I say softly, nearly inaudible with the summer breath all around us. “I feel strange when I’m around you,”

“Odd is odd,”

I can’t help the shy smile I make. “Odd is odd,” I repeat. It feels like something we both can agree on, and I like the intimacy. We’re too close, but too far apart – emotionally and physically. I can feel his body’s heat through the summer’s sun, and it’s a nice feeling, but at the same time it’s all too much. And yet I want him closer.

We don’t speak for a short moment, and it’s a comfortable silence. I like the silence, until I realize he’s still waiting for my answer. It seems he can feel me wavering on that edge – wanting and not wanting, needing and yet not needing at all, because all he can do is place a hand on my thigh.

My whole body warms up the moment he does it, even though his hand is cold against my skin. I know he means nothing by it, but to me – someone who can _feel_ that fucking aura – it’s like he’s blasting music in my ear.

Suddenly, everything is a little too much, and I love the suffocation.

But I don’t get any chance to tell him no, or even yes, because along with that hand on my thigh, a fingertip against my chin forces me to look up again from my fingers and the string.

“Eren…” his voice is a deep, dangerous sound. The way he says my name is like a vicious, hateful prayer, to a God that never listened. My heart hurts. Everything feels too loud again, even if it’s almost dead silent. My phone vibrates in my waistband against my hip, but I forget it’s there. I don’t want it to be there. “Are you afraid of me?”

Am I?

I am, but I’m not.

“No…” I whisper.

He smirks, our lips inches apart. That smirk – I love it, I hate it. I’m so conflicted, and every side of me wants him all the same. I feel his sweet breath against my skin, his thumb still absently passing over my chin. He seems so controlled, not wild – if anything, I’m the wildcard.

“Then why are you shaking?” His voice sounds so nice, up close. It makes my whole body feel like fire and ice, the ice in his eyes and the fire in mine.

I clench my fist in my lap, string in my palm. I’m shuddering all over – it has nothing to do with the fear, but the excitement.

“I’m not afraid,” I breathe, a precious promise. A stupid promise. Who’s to say I will always stay so fearless? Certainly not him, and certainly not me.

I don’t expect him to chuckle. It makes my bones vibrate, the sound – it makes my throat close again, and his hand on my thigh finally moves, setting me free from the still I was stuck in. He moves away, leaving me so very alone. So very cold. Does he like to play with his food before he eats it, like some sort of toddler?

I have five minutes to tell him what I had the courage to tell him last night, and now I’m trapped staring at this stupid string I’d dug up from my skirt. I rip it off, and wipe it onto the bleacher floor.

“You’re not going to play me,” I say, even if my voice is shaking just as hard as my body is. “I’m not a plaything.”

“You’re right,” I jolt with the sound of his voice again, no longer as quiet as it had been before. Had he even been quiet, when we were that close, or was I imagining everything? “You are no plaything. You are invaluable. But the truth is, Eren-”

“There is no _truth_ , Levi. Mikasa and Armin obviously don’t like you, nor does Jean. But _I_ like you. Is there something they know that I don’t, or are you just a bad person like they say you are?”

“You haven’t let me finish.”

I make a soft _hmph,_ pouting at him.

“Because you are _not_ a plaything, I’m terribly afraid of hurting you. You’re fragile, and anyone could tell.”

“I’m not _fragile!_ ” I snap. Why does everyone think I’m some precious maiden that needs saving? I wear skirts, sure, but sometimes I can be my own hero. I’m not a stupid kid.

“And I’m not gentle,” he says.

“Prove it to me.”

I shouldn’t have said it, but I did. I did, and I regretted it.

I didn’t ask to be attacked, but that’s what it felt like. One moment, I can sit perfectly still and have a decent conversation, the next he’s surged upon me and I’m searching for the knife in my skirt, his hands on me. I’m afraid. He was right – I’m afraid.

My hand pauses on the hilt of the knife when his lips find mine, his hand finding my wrist and twisting it free of my skirt. The knife falls on the metal seat, clattering onto the flooring. I forget, for a moment, that I should be afraid. That aura that chased me into the girl’s bathroom one morning is thick around me now, but no longer does it sting me. It cradles me, and the heat that I used to hate becomes a warmth I need.

His lips are soft. Too soft for someone with those kinds of eyes.

My wrist wrenches free of his grip, but I don’t push him away. The same thing that possessed me last night possessed me all the same today, forcing my fingers to find his nape, over the scratchy undercut. With a new free hand, he explores the same expanse of flesh on my thigh he’d been at earlier, running up just beneath my skirt.

The kiss lasts a wonderfully long time. I feel his teeth at one point, because he bites me, but with the euphoria he gives me everywhere else I forget he’d done it. By the time I pull away, my bottom lip is sore, and the bell is ringing for 6th period.

I pant, confused and almost as vulnerable as he was in his pictures. I want more.

“Get to class,” he orders, not even slightly out of breath. There’s something in his eyes I can’t name – beautifully chaotic.

“T-text me.” I remind him, dizzy from the sensory.

I grab my bag, but before I can stand, he kisses me one last time. It’s brief and sweeter than the one he’d given me moments before was – it makes my flesh tingle, but the feeling has to leave quickly.

He doesn’t say anything more, and I have to race on shaky legs to my next class.

I feel like I’ve opened a gate, and that gate isn’t to heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MMMMMMMMM THEY K I S S E D ARE YOU HAPPY NOW YOU FEISTY DEMONS


	10. His Demon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG BIG UPDATE? BIGGER THAN USUAL??? S H O O K CHAPTER 10 omg  
> aNYWAYS, guess what! last episode of SNK season 2 is soon to be released, and Eren looks wonderfully hilarious on the back of Bertholdt!  
> Thank you for reading, and you guys make me The Happiest™ with every comment and kudos! I will SQUEAL when we reach 200 kudos<3333 and I'll cry a lil, too, cus I'm a pussy

The moment I got home, I let myself think at long last. I pull off my uniform, bathe, but I don’t ever leave my room.

I’m not sure I even remember what happened. It feels like I’m thinking too deeply into it, but maybe I’m not – maybe I’m doing what every single girl or boy has ever done out there over their first kiss.

Did I like it? Yes. It wasn’t uncomfortable – I liked it, so much to the point I wonder if Levi’s had practice before me. It wouldn’t matter. Was I afraid? A small part of me, of course. Levi has always felt dangerous, but I love it. I was afraid he’d grab me too hard, and everything I remember now would be very, very different. I wouldn’t have ever wanted to change, or bathe. I wouldn’t have wanted to look in the shower at my body, wondering how he could like _me,_ the Queer.

Would I want another kiss, the exact same way? _Fuck, yes_.

But why do I still feel like I had something stolen from me?

I touch my lips, laying on my bed, still in the towel. They’re soft, but torn. Sore. He’d bitten me so hard that my bottom lip inflated, turning a blush red. I can’t help but stroke the area he’d torn, the hard ridge of a scab right along the center.

I’m okay with it, but I know I shouldn’t. Boyfriends are gentle, exactly what Levi had said he wasn’t. Boyfriends let you wear their shirts, kiss you softly and make you feel like you’re priceless and forever. They don’t bite you.

Or do they?

He hadn’t texted me since I’d left him alone, and I want him to. I have a feeling he will eventually, but how could I respond?

_Hey, you remember what happened this morning? Yeah, I liked it but I didn’t. I want you to fuck me viciously now._

And then there’s the sexual frustration, too – could I imagine being like that with him, when everyone is already terrified of what he’s capable of? Mikasa, Armin, Jean, even Marco seems to be unsure about him. He has friends, if you can even call them that, but he doesn’t talk to them much. I’m the person he talks to the most.

I let my hand flop on the bed, fingers furled just slightly. His hands, too – they heated me up. Is that normal? Do normal hands feel so hot?

What if he’s a demon?

My demon.

I inhale uncertainly, then exhale, letting the breath escape me like he had, all with the ring of a bell – but this bell is in my head, telling me _it’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong. He bit you. You loved it._

What does he want from me? What do I want from him? I feel like that’s some sort of relationship therapist’s words, and they work well. I can assume what I want from him is maybe a relationship, or at least someone I can be close to. Closer than Mikasa, closer than Armin. I want more. What does he want from me?

That’s where my mind begins drawing blanks, slashes through empty boxes. Does he want sex? Does he want a relationship, too? Or does he want something else?

I’m not sure if I’d mind giving him the former. I probably won’t. _Teenage thoughts_ , my mom would call them – teenagers never seem to care about what they give, and I know she feels that way from experience. Maybe I could talk to her about it. She agrees with my sexuality, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind giving me advice on boys – she knows good and well about those kinds of things, considering she’s been married for a decent amount of years.

What if he wanted sex, again?

What if he wants to just use me?

My thighs clamp together, my knees up and closely pressed. Can I imagine his hand sliding down my thigh a little more, beneath that skirt that was there earlier this morning?

My breath comes out again, but this time it’s shaky.

_Wrong, wrong, wrong-_

Yes, I can imagine it. And it doesn’t seem very bad, either. What if it went beneath more than my skirt though? Would I like that?

_Wrong! Wrong!_

I make a frustrated sigh, and sit up entirely, furiously raking my fingers through my hair. What am I thinking? Sure, I’m a teenager, but why the fuck would I so easily throw my virginity at someone? _I’m not a toy_ , I told him, _I’m not._ So why would I show him otherwise? If he used me once, he’d use me again, and when he gets bored, where will I be? I can’t afford to be alone after that. I can’t afford to let him _leave_ , after that.

In the end, I know there’s only two choices. And I can’t regret either, or it’ll just hurt worse.

“Eren?” I jolt when a knock comes from my door, three soft little wraps I know immediately as my mother’s knuckles. She doesn’t knock as hard as dad. Plus, her voice. I pull my towel tighter around my body, calling for her to enter.

She does, a towel between her delicate fingers and a faint smile. She’s always smiling a little, and it’s always been lovely, too.

“How was school?” She rubs some sort of liquid from her fingers, likely from what she was cooking. She must be letting it settle for a while, coming to tell me it’s ready. “You just came home and started sulking. Did something happen with Jean again?”

She knows about Jean. There’s not much I’ve kept from my mother – I can’t remember a single thing I’ve been afraid to tell her.

“No.”

I might as well start now, it seems. How would she react to knowing someone wants to be with me? I can imagine her marching down to the school, demanding to speak to the principal. She’d count it as sexual harassment, I’m sure. But then again, I was also afraid she’d burn all my panties, and when she found them, she just grinned and complimented the ribbon on the front of one of them. Like she was entirely unsurprised by it, maybe even expecting it.

“Hm… that doesn’t sound reassuring,” she stuffs the towel in the pocket of her green apple apron, moving to sit at the edge of my bed. I’ve always admired the way she crosses her legs. When I do it, it’s uncomfortable, but she seems to settle perfectly into it. “Any boy problems?” She wriggles her brunette brows, lips pursed.

“You could say that.”

“Plenty of those, sweetheart. You’re an attractive boy! Of course someone would want to date my precious little prince,” she sighs, tilting her head, letting her braid fall down her back. “I’d have to get used to you being away so often…”

“I wish you couldn’t read minds,” I say.

“Ah, I don’t read minds. But I know you’ve been blessed with your mother’s looks,”

She’s not wrong. My mother is very pretty, and I can imagine how many boys liked her when she was younger. When I was just hitting puberty, I would never have imagined I’d ever have anyone who would find me attractive. I was switching constantly between wearing boy clothes and sneaking skirts. I was either comfortable with boy clothes, or uncomfortable with them, and eventually I just began wearing whatever felt best that day. I wasn’t really very attractive. I got my dad’s eyes, and my mother’s face I’ve heard.

That didn’t help me when I was lanky in 5th grade.

“Mom, there’s a boy.”

She raises a brow, cupping her chin and setting her elbow on her knee. “Mm? How old?”

“18.”

“Oo! A senior? Isn’t that a bit old?”

I roll my eyes, cheeks blushing a cream crimson.

“No, mom. Just… two years. Dad is three years older than you…”

“You’re right. But still, isn’t it my duty to make my boy better than me?”

“Anyways,” I continue, trying to escape the miniscule age gap. Her lips quirk up playfully, but she makes no more complaints. “He’s new. You met his uncle.”

“Oh? You mean the Ackerman boy?”

“Levi,” I remind her.

Her brows draw together in confusion, and her lips bunch again. “So, this is the boy you’re interested?” I know she’d met the uncle, and had good vibes around him. Apparently they live in a clean house, where an older woman used to live. “You know, now that I think about it, Ackerman sounds very familiar…”

I sit back, crossing my legs beneath the towel and splaying my fingers across the sheets. Ackerman may be a very common name – I wouldn’t know. I’m not that important on last names, anymore.

“Something your father said once. And isn’t that Mikasa’s last name?”

I nod. I’d completely forgotten about Mikasa’s last name.

Ackerman.

Huh.

“May be a coincidence. Maybe they’re related?” She suggests, curling her fingers up on her lap. I notice her wedding ring glimmering on her finger.

“It doesn’t matter. Anyways… he kissed me.”

The woman pauses. I wonder, for a moment, if my whole world has stopped, or if she has only. My room is uncomfortably still, without her being so responsive. Her brows seem to only get closer and closer.

“Oh. Hm…”

“Mom?”

“It’s just…” she falls silent again, beginning to twist the ring. “Nevermind. Just be careful, okay?”

I bob my head once. I already know I should be careful. I was careful from day one, and I’m not going to put down my guard until I realize otherwise, or he shows otherwise. For now, I’ll let it stay there, a silent protector. Like it was with Jean for the last couple years.

She stands, brushing imaginary dust from her apron and pausing to give me one kiss on my cheek.

“Well, dinner is ready, sweetheart.” She smiles one last time before turning to leave.

At the door, she stops again. She seems hesitant to leave – there’s something wrong with the way she looks at me, seeming afraid. More afraid than I was, at his mercy.

Something in her eyes says, _it’s wrong_ louder than my head ever had. I know it has nothing to do with his gender, either.

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t leave my room to eat, but I do get a plate before hurrying back. When I return to curling up on the bed, legs up, phone on my thighs and bowl in my lap, there’s a text playing across the top of the screen.

_L: Did I hurt you?_

My heart begins to thud in my chest, excited to know he’d texted me first and terrified of how I could answer. If I said no, I’d be lying. If I said yes, maybe he’d be too frightened to stay with me? Too frightened of hurting me? I decide to be a liar, because liars get what they want more these days.

_E: No, I’m fine._

_L: Based on previous experiences from more… feminine people, ‘I’m fine’ is begging for attention. What’s wrong?_

I can’t help but giggle softly. He’s right – a lot of girlfriends say I’m fine, but never really mean it. I may become one of those people. I’d taken a bite while I was waiting for his response, so I have to answer with a spoon hanging from my mouth.

_E: Oh, Levi, you know me so well! You’ve won my pitiful, girly heart!_

It’s sarcasm.

_L: Seriously. What’s happening?_

I frown a little. I wish he’d humor me a little longer. I twirl my spoon for a moment between my fingers, unsure of how to tell him. How can I tell someone I want to be with them, without sounding too straight forward or too needy?

_E: I’m still not scared to be near you._

_L: Do you want to be, Eren?_

It sounds like an invitation to something. I blush again, forcing the spoon into my mouth and pouting on it. I’m not sure if he means it sexually, or truly.

_E: Levi, what do you want from me?_

I’d rather avoid the question he’d posed, until I know what he means by it. For all I know, he’s asking me to join a cult.

For the next five minutes, I’m left with a read text message and three periods – a sign he’s responding. I wonder if it’ll be a long list, or if he just doesn’t know entirely. I’m hoping the latter. I’d rather a confused boyfriend than an extremely needy one.

At last, I’ve set my phone down and begun to actually eat when he sends it. I set the bowl down, deciding not to finish it, and swipe my phone open.

_L: I’ve told you before, I can be many things. I don’t necessarily have anything I want from you, aside from you. I want your attention, and your attention only. Really, all of this depends on what you want from me._

It’s funny that he left me on read for so long just for those three sentences. It sounds clingy, whatever he’s suggesting, but then again I may be misinterpreting it. He may just want something simple, and I’m throwing it out of proportion because I’m so paranoid about him.

_E: I can do that. But… “me”? What of me do you want?_

_L: Everything._

My heart starts aching again. My thumbs hover over the keyboard, wondering if I should even respond. It sounds sexual, but how can I be sure? Why do I have to take everything to the extreme?

_E: My body?_

_L: You can take your time, of course. I’m not going to demand anything of you._

I bite my lip. That’s good, right? But maybe he won’t accept a relationship until he’s had sex with me? For all I know, he’ll be a lair and break up right after he’s taken everything he could get from me. I decide I should take the risk.

_E: Okay. Levi, I want to be your… boyfriend._

_L: Are you sure?_

_E: Yes. Of course I am._

Maybe I’d just signed my soul off to Satan – but who knows? I don’t. I don’t even know for sure, and I’m the one writing in blood.

_L: I’ll take care of you. Promise._

 

 

 

**_File 94: Family Response_ **

_███ █████ explains a connection between the Defendant and the Victim’s family. A relationship between the defendant’s deceased mother, ████ █████ and the victim’s father, ███ █████ was closely examined by officers. █████ claimed that the relationship was broken off due to a more suitable partner, now the victim’s current mother, and █████ went into a violent rage. She was arrested, but only put into a psych ward for close evaluation and medication. She was released five months later, diagnosed with ███████ ██████████ ██████, █████, and ██████████. The defendant has also been diagnosed with the former and the latter, based on Psychiatric records._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OO look there! they are the together now!!! *cries*  
> For a warning, soon we'll be getting into some deeper stuff. We'll learn more about Eren's mother, and about his father too, as well as Levi's mom! The family tree is C r AZY


	11. Good Boys Don't Wear Crop Tops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha you guessed it, it's a new chapter and we're getting HEATED YA'LL  
> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*snork*

_I hate her. I hate her. I hate her._

_Her stupid bland eyes, that ridiculous braid she always wears, that grin she gives to him – my prince. He’s mine._

_Every moment she’s around him, I feel him let go of me. I hate feeling his fingers loosen, his heart untwining from mine. It took years for him to love me, years for him to need me, and suddenly she’s there, sucking up all that love I was supposed to have. Like a parasite. Like an abomination._

_I sharpen my knife. I like the sound it creates, like a sweet screech – soon, her scream will replace the metal’s. Every moment I wait, he wants her more and more. He’s a stupid boy looking at a stupid girl, and that girl is not me. It was supposed to be me, and that’s what makes me furious._

_My hands shake the more I sharpen – my bones feel numb, but at the same time like they’re on fire. Anger is my creed, and she should have seen that before she spoke to him._

_I feel myself flash in and out of reality, if only for a moment. In that split second, I slice a clean mark across my palm, from my middle finger straight down to the base of my open hand. I cringe, clenching my other hand hard against the wooden board._

_I hate those moments, where I forget what I’m doing. As of recently, it’s been happening more and more. I feel my body relax slowly, melting away the heat in my bones. Dissociation, the doctors had said. If she does that while driving, she may die._

_I wish it wouldn’t last so shortly. If it happened longer, maybe I wouldn’t be ready to murder._

_I take my knife and tuck it into my skirts. Blood trickles onto the floor from my tightened fist, leaving a trail behind me as I make my way to the abomination’s home. After tonight, she will be no more._

 

 

 

 

 

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

I inhale slowly, pressing my cheek against the cool metal of the flag pole sitting just outside the school. It’s a warmer day than usual, especially since summer has finally hit full force, but it’s raining like crazy. Thus, the humidity.

Rain drips from the school’s awning, and drains through the parking lot. I’ve been sitting here for a good few minutes, waiting for Mikasa to come. I’d texted her before, but it seems she’s too busy to bother with me. If I remember correctly, she has classes after school, but I don’t know on which days.

Suits me right, since I’d begun to shrug them off. Even before school I don’t talk much to them anymore, and I know they’re becoming annoyed by it. I don’t need them, anyway; I’m fine on my own.

So, I listen to the rain drip, and the silent of the summer. The parking lot is nearly empty, save for a few remaining cars – teachers still busy on tomorrow’s work, the principal, the counselor. The student parking lot is out back, but it isn’t like that one has anyone there, either. Mikasa is at Votec, her early college classes, which isn’t too far away from here, either.

I sigh.

I should probably get to walking. I can’t expect her to pick me up when we’re already deep in some stupid hole called _acquaintances_ , no longer friends. In a way, I deserve it.

I’m only just hauling my bag more onto my shoulder when a car pulls up just in front of me. I look it over, confused as to who it may be, but I lose words when the window slides down.

Jean.

Explains why it’s such a nice car – a Mercedes, likely bought by his overly rich idiotic parents. Homophobic, too.

“Need a ride?”

I wonder if it’s really smart for me to ride with him. First of all, he’s an asshole. Secondly, he’s – according to Levi – a stupid jock. Third, Levi is protective of me. I’m not sure if Levi would find out or not. I peer around the parking lot, seeing no one in sight like it’d been for the last several minutes. I puff out a small breath, which clouds right in front of my face. Too humid.  

“Yeah.” I mumble, annoyed. With myself and with him – him, for being there.

He pops the lock, and I pull it open, slipping onto the passenger seat. The car smells like alcohol, which is no major surprise – Jean and his friends usually do a little after party for every football game, and that was less than two days ago.

I keep my thighs pressed together, my fingers curled in my lap. He should know by now what my defensive side looks like, and this is a perfect example. If I’m comfortable, I wouldn’t be so strung up.

I shouldn’t be trusting him. Jean and I are already on a thin line. I’m not sure if he’s an enemy or a friend, and these days it’s hard to tell, what with his sudden gay realization and his past homophobia. I could always let my guard down, hope he’s changed, but I don’t hope much anymore. Funny – I used to be the most hopeful person in the school.

My phone buzzes in my backpack, resting on the floor between my legs. I bend to slip my fingers in the pocket, pulling it out.

_L: You already home?_

_E: No._

I flick my phone off, catching Jean’s eye. It’s just a side-look, but he looks, and that’s what bothers me.

“Mikasa?”

“No.”

“Armin?”

“No.”

He snorts. I’m not usually talking to anyone but those two – I’m not very friendly. Used to, he had my number exclusively. Now, he’s just a set of numbers. I don’t even have a name for him. It used to be Horsie.

“So, you’re making friends…?” he says. I keep my eyes on the window, watching the world pass by in a fuzz of green. No, certainly not friends. He wasn’t a friend in the beginning. He’s a dangerous feeling, and I love him for it. I may be spiting Jean being with Levi, but I’m getting a fair kick from it too.

_L: Where are you?_

I decide to ignore Jean for a moment, instead responding to Levi.

_E: I’m on my way, though. Do you need something?_

_L: Mind if I pick you up later? Just for a while?_

Jean swallows thickly out of the corner of my eye. His eyes remain on the road, but his fingers clench around the wheel. I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he wondering who I’m texting? He shouldn’t think so hard about it.

_E: Definitely. Romantic night?~_

_L: If you want to call it that… then yes._

I smile faintly.

“Eren…” I can barely hear him over the rain, beginning to pour onto the car. “Mikasa and Armin are worried.”

I lift my gaze to the older boy. He doesn’t look at me, but his tense body says a lot about how he feels.

They can stay troubled, if they want. If I told them what I was doing, they would be furious. Mikasa, especially. I still want to know why they dislike Levi so greatly – he’s a teenager, just like all of us, even if he does wear a lot of black and is a pronounced loner.  

“So what,” I mumble.

_E: What time?_

_L: What time do your parents go to sleep?_

_E: Nine._

_L: I’ll pick you up at 10._

I’ve never snuck out before. He truly is dangerous – and I love it. I bite my lip, worrying at the soft skin.

“Is it that guy? Levi?”

I snap my head up.

“ _So what if it is?_ ” I growl. He sucks in his bottom lip, suddenly more tense and perilous on his own. I shove my phone back in the pocket of my bag, crossing my arms. It isn’t any of his business, in the first place. I can be with who I want to be with, and he should have thought about that before he called me a whore and told me to go away.

My shoulders bunch close to my head, and my stomach clenches in my abdomen. I’m my own fucking person, and I’m tired of people trying to control me.

“Listen, Eren,” he says, just as he pulls up to my house. I’m thankful I can leave if I don’t want to hear what he has to say. “I understand that you’re… rebellious and all. You can do what you want. I’m just saying, he’s not… good.”

“Good is an opinion, Jean.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment, stunned with my response. There are people out there who love to get bit, beaten and hurt. Maybe I’m one of those people? Maybe I don’t want a good boyfriend?

“We just want you to be safe.”

“I’ll use a fucking condom,” I snap, yanking the door handle and grabbing my bookbag. He seems surprised I’d say something so intense, but it’s all I had. Maybe I won’t, just to piss him off. I slam the door, rather hard, hoping his stupid window will shatter and his perfect parents will yell at him.

I stomp up the steps, leaving Jean to smack his head on the steering wheel.

 

 

 

 

 

 I put on my best outfit.

It’s to spite Jean, in part, but the other part is that I want Levi to like what he sees. I’m his, now, and Jean can’t say anything to stop me. When Levi sees me, he’ll be mine, too. I can have what I want, not what Jean or Mikasa or even Armin wants – I’ll be my own person.

I stare at myself in the mirror. I look different. I’m used to wearing my school uniform, so seeing myself in this is new and it feels wonderful. Especially since I know a boy will be seeing it – a boy that I like, not a boy that Armin or Mikasa likes me being with.

I touch the gap between a black, pleated waist-high skirt, and the crop top that matches. It’s barely three inches wide, but it still feels like too much. _Make yourself uncomfortable for him. It’s not yourself you’re looking to impress._ Besides, what’s three inches of skin, just below my ribcage, going to do? At least I covered up most of my legs with thigh-highs. The most you can see is my upper leg, and then everything else is hidden.

I hug my body, suddenly so very sure that this was a mistake. I have five minutes, and he’ll be here. The boy that everyone wants, including me. But I’ll be alone, and how long have I known him? Maybe three months?

But I love talking to him. His voice is so, so nice – it makes me feel nice, like sugar and spice. His eyes.

Would I mind letting his eyes rove down my body?

No, I wouldn’t.

God, I _want them to_.

I hear the sound of rocks cracking beneath wheels, an engine purring just outside. I grab my jacket and pull it on, before opening the lock on my window and thrusting it up. I slip out, one leg at a time, and finally gather myself just outside the window. I leave it shut, but not locked. I’d rather like being able to come back.

As expected, Levi is sitting out front in the car. I cross the lawn, still pulling the sleeves of my jacket.

He opens the door for me – the look of amusement on his face is evident from the moment I’m at the door.

“Hey there, cheerleader,” I roll my eyes, slipping in just beside him. I’d overdressed, it seems. He’s not in his uniform like I’m used to, but a band t-shirt and torn black jeans. He looks better like this, casual. “Is there a reason you’re dressed like every other girl at our school?”

“You don’t like it?” I grin at him, pulling my skirt down more over my thighs. His eyes follow, but he doesn’t get much. “I can always change. That is, if you want to wait a while.”

“No. You look beautiful.”

I wasn’t really expecting those kinds of words. How long had it been since someone has called me beautiful? Heat floods my face, destroying the care-free nature I’d adopted just before I’d left. I attempt to find words, but there’s nothing in my mind aside from the ice of his gaze. It takes longer than usual to respond.

“Thank you,” I say. It isn’t much, but it’s something. I don’t want to sound like an idiot.

He shifts gears, chuckling softly. That nice voice. Why does Jean want me to leave him?

“No need. I’ve never thanked anyone for stating fact, before, and you shouldn’t start, either,”

How does he know exactly what to say in moments like these?

“So, where are we going, prince charming?”

He raises a brow at me, but keeps his eyes on the road.

“Where do you wanna go?”

Good question. Where do I? His bed. I cross my arms, running my fingertips over my forearm. It smells nicer in here than it did in Jean’s car – like smoke and roses. I quite prefer it over alcohol.

We could always go to the town, maybe stop at a icecream shop. That sounds like a normal date – I don’t like normal, anymore. Maybe because he exists, and he’s here with me. It’d be stupid for me to just choose the easiest possible choice.

Besides, I’d rather do something dangerous.

“You didn’t have anything in mind, genius?”

“Well, I did… but you’re a good boy, right? Can’t do those kinds of things with good boys.”

“Who said I was good?” I say.

He gives me a faint side glance, tracing down my sitting form. I sit up a little more, baring the ring of skin along my upper waist. His eyes stay there a little longer than everywhere else. I’m not a good little boy, not anymore. Not with him.

“Mm. Maybe we can make a change of plans,” his voice is laden with a kind of sweet poison. This time, I’ll sign my death wish in blood readily.

We make a U-turn. Breaking laws, already – but it’s not like anyone is watching.

The only person watching is God, and even he’s given up on us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next *update*;;; will have the sexiness;;;


	12. Break Me: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty !! So, I split this chapter into two parts, because it was getting w a y too long, so the next part actually has the sexiness. I've updated in one day, so you don't have to wait for the *cough*smut*cough* kinky stuff when I'd already said you'd get it sometime next chapter. SO, he r e yougo.

_Blood drips from the tip of my blade. The girl trembles on the ground, clutching her ribs where I’d lashed out at her. Her eyes are wide, absurdly honey-brown in the afternoon light. Every breathe she makes is harsh in my ears, pounding against the inside of my brain, reminding me she’s still alive, when I should have just stabbed her and gotten it over with._

_I can’t let her live, now that she knows what I am. I’m a monster, a psychopath that doesn’t feel anything but obsession._

_Need, need, need, need._

_She shuffles back, her uniform black shoes scrabbling against the concrete of the sidewalk. I step near, skirt swaying and knife trembling in my palm. I sharpened it just for her, so she could feel it in between her ribs, where her bird-like heart beats for my boyfriend._

_Mine, mine, mine, mine._

_“P-Please. I… I don’t know what you want,” the girl – abomination – whimpers. Tears have begun to pool in her eyes, a desperate last cry for sympathy before she dies like the bitch she is. I wipe the knife’s blade on my skirt, relieving it of its crimson stains. She breathes faster, like a hummingbird’s wings, frantic in her lungs. “What do you want from me!”_

_I’m thankful I chose to attack her while she was on the way home from practice. If I’d chosen to be just a little later, I would be in her neighborhood now, and they’d all hear me. But no one can hear her scream now, because no one is around to listen. Does a tree really fall if no one is around to hear it hit the dirty ground? It’s just a child’s memory. A fairy’s last breath._

_“K-Kuchel. That’s your name, right?” She gasps, desperate for me to speak. I pause, knife tight in my hand. I still bleed, but not for her. I do it all for him._

_“Yes,” I say. I don’t step any nearer to her body, because she’s already stopped trying to escape. I tilt my head, thoughtful – if I kill her, what fun will there be? I worked so hard for the boy she’s in love with, and then she’s going to try and take him? Of course, she deserves any torture I’d want to give her._

_“What… what did I do wrong?”_

_Everything. You spoke to my everything._

_I silently remember all the times I’d been picked on. She stood idly by, a frown on her average face, lips just slightly turned down, like she disliked the situation but wanted nothing to do with it. I remember the fist that connected to the locker just beside my head, how I stood perfectly still, eyes locked with the highschool boy I know would later hurt me. He liked to play games on the field, but he did more than that off the field._

_“Nothing,” is all I manage to say. Her bronze eyes share my pain, if only a fluttering millisecond._

_“I won’t tell anyone,”_

_“It won’t matter,” I snap. She stiffens, tears pouring down her face only quicker. Her makeup is smudged on her cheeks, like coal._

_I take another step. Then another. I watch the cold fear envelope her again, how it drains the warmth from her tanned face. I want to rip her intestines out, use it to tie her up on her parent’s doorstep. I’ll gift her heart to the boy I love, and he’ll understand why._

_“Kuchel.”_

_I stop again. I’ll listen to her last words – I’m not that horrible._

_“It’s for him, isn’t it?”_

_It is._

_“He doesn’t love you,” the abomination says, with all the audacity of someone who isn’t beneath my knife._

_“He gave me his child,” I breathe. I have his child in me, so thus that is all the love I need. All the love I desire, and she can’t take that from me._

_“He didn’t mean it,” I begin to shake with fury. He meant it. He always did, every moment – the locker, the football field, the locker rooms, the bathroom stall- “He felt bad for you.”_

_My breath becomes trapped in my throat. What does she mean? Is she only trying to stop me? Of course she is – she values her life like an animal values its food, and she won’t ever let go if it. She values it as much as I value the boy who fathers my child._

_“You… you were always so alone. You looked… empty,”_

_I was empty since I was born. I am a husk, a tree that’s been hallowed out so other creatures can fester within me. Her hazel eyes are filled with a type of emotion I know I have never felt – regret. She regrets that she ever felt bad for me, and I now regret that I’d ever let her think I was weak. I’m not weak, I’m just silent. Silence pays the most, these days._

_“I am empty,” I say. My voice sounds vague, like it’s faded in my brain._

_“But… he filled you, didn’t he?”_

_He did. He made me whole. He was the rings of my tree, and every second was another I could count later. The red begins to fade from my vision, and all I see is a teenage girl, barely 16. Karla. The girl that held doors open for others, always smiled at everyone that passed by. She’s amazing at cooking, from what I’ve heard from Home Ed. She’ll be a beautiful mother one day._

_Will I?_

_This small child within me, barely two months old. Hiding the bump from my father will be hard, but it won’t matter as long as she stays alive for me._

_I know why he loves her. Because she gave him something worth living for – and he gave me something worth living for. She gave him kindness and love, and me? I’ve given him nothing, have I?_

_But he still gave me my little girl._

_“Kuchel. If you leave… I won’t say a word. I won’t go anywhere near him anymore.”_

_I let my eyes flutter closed. I can smell the afternoon on our heels, the light buzzing of summer insects and the tweeting of baby birds. If I leave her now, she will continue to love him. The possession I feel towards him is painful and horrible, like ripping ribs from my body one by one with each foot I’m away from him. But at least I have this child. If I hurt her, the police will come. They always do, just not for me._

_The concrete we stand on will be lit with red and blue, and I will be taken away. Maybe not today, but they always find out._

_I breathe in one last time, the breath of a lovesick girl, not a fairy._

_I drop the knife on the concrete – it clatters, then bounces into the lush summer grass._

I le _ave the girl on the ground, bleeding from a shallow cut across her ribs. She does not make a word, instead vouching to drag herself to her feet, watching me leave with what I have left._

_It’s a battle I cannot win._

_Kenny will understand._

 

Greenery crunches beneath our feet, twigs snapping and birds chirruping lazily from the overgrown trees. Eren ambles behind me, completely unaffected by the nature that surrounds us. Of course, I’m leaving a wide margin for him to walk through by shoving branches aside for him, and I’ve also spent most of my life underground, aside from the occasional chances I’d get to help Kenny.

What I do remember of nature is when my mother would bring me to the spring behind our house. We’d always be in a rush to get home, and I was barely old enough to walk – father was always angry when we returned, ripping my mother’s skirts and cursing her. I was barely three, and watching it was a pain even then, even if I didn’t really understand what was happening.

I’d taken Eren onto commercial property that’s not been cut down yet – I’m surprised he trusted me enough to climb into the damn eerie forest. It seems like he’s never watched any slasher movies. I don’t intend to hurt him, anyways. The only time I may consider it is if he runs away.

I silently recall the way my father grabbed my mother by her hair as she tried to pull away, dragging her back like she was a doll. His boot on her cheek, her sobbing, the blood pooling on the floor.

I sometimes wondered if she enjoyed it. She laughed, sometimes, even spat on him like it was a game of who could be worse.

I know I never liked it. My mother was a kind woman; she was simply in a lot of pain. I would be, too.

“Are we almost there?” Eren calls, panting and flushed. It doesn’t affect me as harshly, the climbing and all, because I’ve barely broken a sweat. You could say I have quite a lot of practice.

“Yeah. Just a few more meters, and we’re there. You want me to carry you?” I raise a brow at him over my shoulder. He flushes darker, and makes a soft growl of indignity.

“’Course not! I’m a grown m-“

“Shut up, you’re barely 16.”

He huffs, swiping a twig out of his way. He’s really quite amusing – he probably didn’t think I’d take him out into the night towards a forest area, so the skirt and crop shirt really must be getting quite annoying. His eyeliner is still immaculate, though, so I really can’t complain about it myself. I quite like how he looks with cat eyes.

It isn’t but another quick moment before I push aside one last branch, into a small clearing. At the end of it, it drops steeply into a dipping hill. Beneath that, it’s nothing but city lights and a fresh breeze from the north.

This is where I dumped a body when I was 13, where Kenny helped me tip the small, frail body of one of his many girlfriends off into the night.

Eren trips up beside me – his entire body is shivering with the heat, and his skirt looks to have been torn at one edge. I reach to touch it, but the shorter boy jolts, blushing dark and skipping back once. I’m guessing he assumed I’d lift his skirt, but that’d be too bold. I roll my eyes.

“W-What is this place?” He breathes, peering out over into the city. It’s mostly orange lights, but the occasional blue and white blinds us both. In this state, there isn’t many tall buildings, but it’s still a massive city. The drive down her was nearly forty-five minutes, due to the fact it’s the state’s capital and we’re due further south.

“I used to come here a lot,” I say absently. He flattens his skirt down, recomposing himself. I reach to tug a leaf out of his hair, causing him to huff.

“Really?” He sits up straight, peering up to me. I would prefer forgetting the time I’d been in that stupid fucking cage, and how that picture appeared to me. His face was so innocent, so kind – I could make so many assumptions of his personality, just from how he gazed so lovingly at that camera. He was so young, and I was so broken.

I still am.

I quietly slump on the ground, letting my legs suspend into the air. Eren follows suit, settling on the ground directly beside me. We had to trespass and bypass a few security guards to get here, as well as climb a fence, but it was worth it. It really is quite beautiful – calming. The stiff breeze seems to cool us both down, winding our nerves back a notch or two. People are always angrier and more hostile when it’s hot. I should know that, because Kenny taught me at an early age.

“So… brought any other girlfriends here, before?”

“No. My Uncle’s been here with me before, though, a long time ago,” I say. I don’t want to lie to him anymore, but I can always give him half-truths. He came here with me, sure, but it wasn’t to gaze at the city like he thinks it was.

In the corner of my vision, I can see the breeze brush hair from the younger boy’s face, tickling the tips of it just past his flushed ears. His vivid green eyes stay trapped on the many stout buildings collecting into small neighborhoods and fading off into taller, more thin buildings. I feel like I could reach out and touch them, and they’d fall. The moon wades in the sky like it’s out for a midnight swim, illuminating his fine features.

“You’re not really from France, are you?”

No. I’m not. I have French blood, and my mother used to sing songs to me in French, but I was never there. Of course, I know a lot of the language as well, due to the books mother kept around during the day – and Kenny’s “code language”. I’ve always wanted to go to France, of course, but how could I? I’m trapped, whether I like it or not.

Kenny’s still at my shoulder, thinking I’m waiting for the perfect moment to murder Eren. He doesn’t know that I’m obsessed with him, that I’m terrified of him dying. I would kill so many people just to have him nearby. I wouldn’t hesitate.

“No,” is all I can force myself to say.

“So, your transfer papers were all plagiarized?”

“You could say that,”

Smart kid. How could I have brought my uncle here if I was in France that long ago?

He doesn’t seem to affected by the new information, though, even shifting to press his cheek to my shoulder, curling his legs up onto the grass beside him. His body is warm, likely because of the trek up here and the brief moment we had to slip past a thirty-something old man talking on a radio.

“What happened to you?”

I don’t know. Maybe I should ask that myself – I don’t remember some of my childhood, just the small, useless things. For example, I remember my father beating my mother, but I don’t remember ever going to school. I remember the spring, but I don’t remember having any friends. It’s a blur, a lot of my younger days, but what was always the most distorted was the time I lived with Kenny.

“That’s a vague question,” I say.

“Are you a criminal? Are you coming here to… escape, or something?”

“No. Not necessarily,”

How’d he feel if he knew that I was here to kill him, as a dirty side-job for Kenny? I’d killed for Kenny before, but I can’t bring myself to kill Eren. He is beautiful, and I can’t do it without hurting myself, too. He’s my reason to live, and being near him brings all sorts of odd, jittery feelings. When he leaves, I break a little, and I have to bite my tongue so I don’t drag him back and force him to stay.

Force him to stay. What would that be like?

What if he was in a cage, just like I was? I could do whatever I want with him, and he’d have no say in the matter. I imagine those thin wrists bound in rope, hearing him cry because of me. Beautiful. I would cut a thin little line down that flat expanse of his belly, run the tip of something sharp up his aching --

“I don’t mind. If you were a criminal, I mean. I… don’t really care. I like being around you,”

I’m glad he’d cut my imagination short. I breathe a deep breath, swiping the many ideas away. Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him. You can’t.

“What if I’d killed someone, Eren?”

“T-Then so be it! People make mistakes,”

“What if I don’t regret it?”

“Then they must have done something horrible to you,”

I give him a sideways glance. Eren is the innocence of all the world in one little bundle. I grin a little, which earns a little whimper from Eren.

“Stop giving me that stupid side smirk!”

“Do you like it?” I tease him. He pouts, shaking his head.

“It’s just… so snarky,” he pulls his thighs closer to his body, and I reach to wrap my arm around his waist. My fingertips graze over his exposed skin, causing it to heat up. “I don’t… like it,”

“I think you like it,” I say, burying my nose in his hair. He nuzzles deeper into my shoulder – I’m getting tired of how far away he is, how I can’t touch him where I want. It’s a limit of control, and limits have always been my worst fear. Ever since that cage in Kenny’s basement came into existence.

I think he doesn’t like the lack of proximity, rather than the control, because he shifts at long last to settle himself in my lap, facing me. His body presses into mine, the skirt sliding up his legs.

“What if I do? What’s so wrong about liking certain things?”

“There are some things that are taboo, Eren. Like being tied up. Or wanting to be hurt,”

“You can tie me up,” he says. He doesn’t know what kind of permission he just gave me, what kind of images just flashed in my head. I want to be buried inside of him, I want him tied to the headboard of the bed, baring everything for me to see. I blink, and the thoughts fade to the innocent boy sitting in my lap.

My hands fall to his thighs, tracing up beneath his skirt. I feel his skin heat the farther I go, closer and closer to the place where his thighs meet his hips.

“Don’t wish for stupid things,”

His green eyes flutter cutely, those lips pursing in annoyance. I want to run my thumb along his bottom lip, let him bite me like a puppy trying to nibble. I’d teach him to be a dog for me, if I could.

“I can wish for anything I want,”

“And what would that be?”

Here, he stops. I don’t think he even knows what he really wants. He barely knew what I wanted from him, and I still don’t know what he wants from me. My hands pause on his thighs, feeling his hips arch up a little. He doesn’t even know what to say, or he’s too afraid to say it – if it’s the latter, then I may have an idea of what he’s thinking. I can say, myself, that I want to do whatever he asks of me.

“I want…” his eyes stay locked with mine, thoughtlessly memorizing every piece of me that he can get. I can see the faint fear that lingers in his depthless eyes, suspended there until I give him reason to not be afraid. He had told me he wasn’t, but tongues can always lie. They can do other things, too, but the most they’ve ever done is tell stories that center around dishonesty. “A… a lot of things…”

“Start with one,”

“I’ve thought about h-having sex with you,”

Of course he has. The kind of relationship we have isn’t purely emotional. Eren has a body, and I have one too – I know _good and well_ that Eren has needs. I do, too, but I haven’t felt those kinds of things until he’d been around me. One day, I’d like to see him undress without a pane of glass between us.

“You don’t have to wish so hard for that,” I breathe. God, he’s sitting right here in my lap, skirt hiked up his absurdly long legs. I doubt he’s forgotten that his panties are catching on the zipper of my jeans with every breath he takes, or that my hands have been wandering for a long time now. The longer we sit like this, the longer we delay what he’s apparently been wishing for.

“I’m not doing it on a hill,” he says.

I grin again, amused. I could do anything, absolutely anywhere. I’d fuck him in a park against a tree, if he let me.

“How about we cut this date short?”


	13. Break Me: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screams from the rooftops* REALLY SHITTY PORN
> 
> ANYWAYS, if you want to skip it, don't read the unitalicized part of the chapter! The italicized part is important to the story.

_Karla and I both wake at nearly five in the morning to an incessant knocking. The sound is small, as if made by a small hand, but it’s loud enough for both of us to easily hear. We’d tried to ignore it at first, but after a while, Karla’s hand touched my shoulder and she nodded faintly, telling me I should probably go and see to it._

_I rub her swollen belly once before pushing myself out of the bed, grabbing some pants from the drawers and hopping around while I tug them on. I have both legs on by the time I get to the bottom of the stairs, and the knocking has turned into banging._

_At long last, I pull the door open, and the girl’s hand stops mid-air. Her eyes are wide – the same grey eyes I remember very well from high school. Which had ended only a year ago. Next to her, a little girl stands, red scarf wrapped around her neck. She couldn’t be any older than three years, maybe less._

_Kuchel. She looks frailer than usual, her pitch black hair hanging around her ovular face, draping well past her waist. Her clothes hang from her body – I wonder for her health, but decide I shouldn’t question it. She’s always eaten like a bird, but not so much to where she’d become a skeleton._

_“Grisha,” she says, in a faint greeting. She peers past me into the livingroom, but there is no one for her to see. Karla and I moved here just after getting married – less than three months ago._

_A small hand pulls at Kuchel’s skirt, bunched into a small pale fist. The little girl has Kuchel’s eyes, and her dark hair, but it’s cut fairly short._

_“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Kuchel?” I say. My voice is tired to my own ears, scratchy with another sleepless night. I don’t sleep as well as I used to._

_Last time I saw Kuchel was before highschool ended. She had dropped out just as she turned 17, and had disappeared into the world we were all fearing at the time. I could call her brave, or I could call her stupid. I can’t imagine that she’s made it well for herself, considering her frailty and the small child at her knees, but I can’t judge her for wanting to drop out. We were all suffering for her, both Karla and I. Karla more so than I, because she was the one who suggested Kuchel and I date. It was a short fling, and a painstaking one._

_There was something always so odd about her. Karla knows most of it, because Karla was the one who wanted to make everything okay for her. I never wanted to be anywhere near Kuchel, I’d rather watch her suffer and pity from afar, but Karla pushed me into it. That was before we were even considering being a couple ourselves._

_“This is Mikasa,” Kuchel says, as if bypassing the words I’d just said. She pushes her skirts aside, showing the small girl to me. Mikasa bows her head for only a moment, black hair coming free from behind her ears and draping infront of her pale little face. “She… is my daughter,”_

_“And?”_

_“I can’t take care of her anymore.”_

_I raise a brow. Is she saying that I can? Karla and I are already expecting another child, and we’re both just fresh out of highschool. I’m barely able to support all three of us, and I don’t think Kuchel understands that. But the longer I look at the little girl, the more I realize that her frame is beginning to match Kuchel’s. They’re both underweight, and a bruise rests under the small girl’s eye, fading from time._

_Kuchel has always been attracted to bad people. For the short time we were together, she’d been prone to thinking I would hit her all the time. I know all about her father, and everyone knew what the football player did to her. He had told the whole school about her, how she cried._

_“Kuchel… don’t tell me you’ve…”_

_“He’s all I have,”_

_“He’s a psychopath.”_

_And he’s hurting their child, too, it seems. There’s something oddly familiar about the little girl – the way her eyes gaze up at me, the small freckle on her neck, just where her chin meets her neck. She bounces on the balls of her feet for a moment, looking up at me with such oddly empty eyes. She looks a lot like Kuchel, but she looks nothing like the man Kuchel is undoubtedly with._

_“Please. Can you take her?”_

_I shake my head. I know that Ian must hurt the little girl, but I can’t give her a home. Someone else may be able to, though._

_“There’s a couple that lives nearby, on Mangrove, 75. His wife is infertile…”_

_“Perfect.”_

_She doesn’t wait for more, bending to pick the young girl up and settle her on her bony hip. The little girl grasps for me, but her mother takes her little hand and tucks it back against her chest. I watch her turn to leave, but I can’t let her simply walk away._

_“Wait, Kuchel-“_

_She pauses, turning only halfway. Only now am I seeing her limp, how bruised her left leg is. Dark purple, apple green – like someone had pounded it with a sledge hammer. I wince a little, but make no mention of it._

_“You… you can’t keep doing this,” I beg her to turn and ask me for help. But she will never, for she is an empty husk, and husks don’t ask for help._

_She can’t. One day, she’ll die. Living with the man who’d hurt her is like throwing yourself into Hell. For all I know, she enjoys the pain and lives off of it. Maybe it’s all she knows, all she can understand._

_“Goodbye, Grisha.”_

_She turns entirely, and leaves. I watch her walk away, favoring her right leg._

_That is the last time I see her, for five years. The next time, she will be on the news, reported a suicide and an abuse victim._

_Her four-year-old son will briefly be shown, completely unbruised, with the same empty eyes as his mother. He will not shed a tear, but instead he will smile as his father claws at the air, screaming profanity at the younger boy as he’s dragged away to a cop car._

 

_Eren. Eren. Eren—_

His body molds into mine, small fingers dragging across my back, up into my hair. His breath is hot against my throat, and the sounds he makes – God, the sounds. I want to hear them every day, every night. I want to hear him scream – no, no, no. No screaming. I’ve heard that too much.

My favorite thing to hear is the small, panting wails. Forget the harsh sounds, forget the begging. His green eyes look up into mine with such a loving trust, the kind I don’t deserve. Had my mother ever looked at my father like that? I can’t imagine that they did, because I’d never seen them kiss, I’d never seen them smile at each other at all, lest it was in spite.

It doesn’t matter. My father doesn’t matter, wherever he is, rotting in jail or in a cage like I was. What does is the small body beneath mine, the hot insides that clench around me every time I roll my hips into his. If I do it just right, he shudders and makes that beautiful sound I love to hear so much, a reward that I want all to myself.

_Eren, Eren, Eren – God, Eren._

I don’t say it, but I think it. He can’t keep his mouth closed for longer than a moment, letting my name spill out on occasion with soft, fluttery moans. I grip the undersides of his thighs harder, and he jolts, nails raking down my back. I’ll bleed for him.

“Levi,” he whispers, just beside my ear. That’s not my name. His name isn’t Eren. What are we, anyways? Humans, beasts, monsters, criminals.

 _All of the above,_ I marked on the page, the police standing around me as I checked each and every box for abuse. Sexual, Physical, Emotional –

_Eren. Eren._

Blood drips, but it’s not blood, it’s sweat. My sweat. I watch Eren’s bead on his chest, the crop top pushed just past his perked nipples. I lean down, running my tongue over one of the small peaks. He gasps, fingers grabbing for my hair desperately. He can hurt me, I don’t mind. _Hurt me. Do it. We’ll be monsters together._

“Levi, I-I’m… haa- s-slow… slow down,” I can’t, I want to say. I can’t, because I’m lost.

He arches up against me, against the scars along my stomach. His green eyes water, but they don’t drip down his flushed cheeks, making his eyes appear like pools. I would lick up his tears, if he would let me. I would lick up anything he made for me.

_Eren, Eren, Eren. “Eren,”_

I let one slip past my lips, and he moans at the word. Really, that’s all it is – a word. But it represents the boy beneath me, it represents everything about him. I didn’t want to fuck him in the back of my car, but _God_ , everything about him wouldn’t let me wait. The moment we got back to the car, I had him against the hood, eating him alive with fingers and teeth. He didn’t complain, and I didn’t have the time to. I wouldn’t have, either way.

And when he pulled me to the back seat, I didn’t complain when he tugged his panties off his legs, leaving the skirt on for me to enjoy. It hurt him at first, but the pain on his face was more than enough to keep me hard. I wonder if my father felt the same towards my mother. Was her pain something beautiful to him? When he made me, did she cry? Was I born through her suffering?

“F-Fuck,” I growl. Eren clenches when I curse, so I know he enjoys hearing my voice. I bury my face in his shoulder, and his fingers bury into my flesh, pulling me apart by the seams. The seams my father and Kenny made.

 _Break me, Eren,_ I beg in my head. I want to be hurt, just like he’s so willing to be hurt. He shouldn’t have fallen for me.

He breaks before I get the chance to. He makes one high cry, and comes onto his stomach. I don’t stop for him, even though I’m sure I’m beginning to overstimulate him. I flip him, and his cheek presses into the car door, but I don’t care. His back is red from rubbing harshly against leather, but he doesn’t complain when I drag my tongue across the area between his shoulder blades. He jolts, pressing himself harder on my cock, letting me fill him however much I want to.

Even if he didn’t want it, would I still be doing this? I can’t say as though I wouldn’t. I just wanted to forget for a moment, but it only made the memories come harder and harder.

He balls his fingers up against the door, rocking on his spread knees – he begins to bite his lip to muffle the sweet noises, but I don’t want him to.

_Eren. Break me._

I grip his hips hard when I hit my high – he gasps, shuddering, his entire body becoming jello beneath me. I let him grind back more, taking every ounce of what I have to give him. I wonder if he likes the idea of my essence being in him. I sure do. He slumps against the car door when I pull out, leaving a string of white between him and I. It drips, but I don’t pay mind to it.

I’m thankful I can’t give him a child. It would be just like me – a monster. A disgusting mess. I’ll start the cycle again, and later that child will pass the Ackerman blood. We’re all a little broken, maybe my mother more than others.

I kiss down his spine, to the round curve of his backside, where I begin to kneed my fingers into him. When I pull him apart, cream white drips down his thighs, onto the leather of the seat.

“Disgusting,” I murmur. The younger boy waves his ass a little, seeming to disagree.

“It feels weird,”

I know it does. I leave a kiss on his flushed backside, sitting up to fix my pants.

We’re both hot, and I can probably get that by now. Before, I was too concerned about fucking this beautiful boy that I didn’t care that we may get heat stroke. I pull my keys from my pocket while he rolls, with a lot of struggling, onto his back. I find his panties on the floor of the car, picking them up to slip part of it onto his left leg, and then onto his right. He doesn’t help much, but I don’t mind. I toss the keys onto the front seat, working his underwear back up over his thighs. His eyes are lidded, watching silently.

He really is delicious. I could feast on him a little longer, or I could get him home. He wriggles his hips, but I push his black skirt down.

“Levi-“

“I’m taking you home,” I say. His emerald eyes linger on me a moment longer, over my shirtless torso. He reaches to brush a fingertip over my chest, where a long scar resides, the size of my forearm.

“What happened to you,” he whispers. I know it’s not a question to me, but rather to himself. He knows things he shouldn’t, and I’m not sure I want to know what he does. Maybe he doesn’t know anything at all, and he’s just very good at reading people. I’ve been a closed book my entire life, on lock and key. I hold my own key, and I’ll never give it to anyone else.

Maybe one day he’ll know. He’s bared all for me to see, hasn’t he?

“A lot of things,” I press a brief kiss to his forehead, and he returns it to my throat.

“Whatever it is… forget it. Replace it with me,”

I will.

Trust me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short <3 there will be more in later chapters,,,,, cause i'm a hungry little kinkster and i can't write without porn for long,,,,,


	14. ((Author Note)): 2 WEEK HAITUS

_Heyya readers!_

_I know this (may) annoy you, but I'm deciding that I'm taking a short (very short) haitus on this fic in particular. My other fic, Invisible Fears, will continue to update, though!_

_I'm taking this break mostly so I can better plan out beyond this point. Of course, I'd just finished the 13th chapter (the PROMISED SMUTTER FICCER), and after this point things will get VERY HEATED, and I'M NOT READY FOR THIS. I have the bare minimum planned out (the skeleton of the fic, if you will. Such as the family, the settings, the ultimate ending), but I'd like to get together absolutely everything. I have a very good idea of how I expect this to end, and I'm really hoping there won't be anyone who disagrees with how I choose to end it. THANKFULLY, I've decided that Eren will not die, and you do not have to worry! Levi will not die either. However, several lives will be lost in this._

_As for everyone who's wondering as to Levi's mental stability, I'd like to say that Levi is majorly traumatized. He's likely suffering from C-PTSD, his mother's personality disorder and a mood disorder, thus making his feelings and emotions towards people around him and himself very, very odd and fluctuating. In the beginning, he may have seemed more hostile, but he's slowly becoming accustomed to being around Eren and Eren is becoming accustomed to being around Levi._

_I'd like to say, as well, that Levi is not entirely the "evil villain" of this fic. In real life, a lot of roles are involved, and people who may sometimes seem to be bad may be good in the end. Trauma causes proneness to violence, sexual mistreatment and even intrusive thoughts. Of course, Levi'd grown up believing a lot of things his uncle did were normal and okay (rape, sexual abuse, physical violence), and so he'd likely be very prone to having sexually violent thoughts about his friends and others he may come across (RED FLASHING "EREN" SLIDES ACROSS THE SCREEN)._

_But anyways, aside from this short little reminder, I'm going to say that I'm going to be very haitus for about 2 weeks. I've been updating a lot, like maybe once every other day, so I feel like I need to hold off and put some interest on Invisible Fears._

_Invisible Fears is a lot more stable than this story (IF has a lot less unhealthy relationships/rape/violence/death n despair), and I feel like it'd be better for me to continue on that for a while._

_But thank you all for reading! I'm very, very happy to have reached my goal, and I can't believe you're all still here. People who had commented on my first chapter are still hanging around, commenting on the most recent updates. You guys make my world go round, and I'm not sure what this story would be without you!_

 

_-Author, SW_

 


	15. Little Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor gore in this chapter;; 
> 
> Heyoo! So, I released the hiatus super early because I found out some information. In... about a month, everyone in the home has to move out. AKA - I have three options. Foster home (chance of internet), a mental hospital (no internet), or my grandparents home (internet, but I had left them due to physical/emotional abuse and neglect). I'd like to say that my grandparents is the most likely thing to happen, because the scars on my wrists are months old, and foster homes for teenagers over 15 are super, super rare. 
> 
> Thus, I want to update as much as possible before August 1st. 
> 
> Thank you for reading ♥

__

_Do you see the red?_ The voice whispers. The world is a void around me, empty and stark black – there is no one, nothing but the boy on his knees in front of me. _Do you see all the red he can bleed? All for you?_

His head is bowed, chocolate brown shielding me from the eyes I know are beneath it. _Green, green, green._ Green like the emerald blouse the girl wore, ripped from Kenny’s blade and bent so awkwardly on the floor. I sat at the bars, sobbing fresh tears and trying to reach for her through the bars. I didn’t even know her name, but there she was – a girl, a human.

 _Why don’t you kill him?_  Crimson drips onto the floor from the tip of his nose, and he trembles, fingers clenching on the dark floor. _He’s so young…_ _you’ve tainted him._

I have. The only reason I wanted him before was because he was fresh. He was never touched by Kenny, never felt the kind of thing all those women did. The prostitutes, the whores, the sluts. They were all just women, all in the wrong place at the wrong time. If I didn’t taint Eren, he would one day. I don’t know how I would have reacted if he did.

 _You can lick up his blood._ Eren’s body slumps forward a little more. His arms tremble, as if boneless. _Look at him. Disgusting. Abomination_.

I love him. I love him, and the voice in my head is just a liar. Eren is beautiful, precious, kind. He looks for the best in everyone, and found it in himself to look for it in _me_ , didn’t he? I want to reach out and touch him, grab him by the shoulders and pull him close. His shoulders shake, and he cries sweet tears. I can’t move, I’m chained to the ground just like when I was in the basement.

_Hurt him like Kenny did to all those girls. Chain him up. Rip his fingers off. Gauge out his eyes. Slit his throat, don’t let him die, though. Make him suffer, listen to those beautiful screams._

I choke. Stop, stop, _stop!_ Nothing could make me hurt Eren. No one could make me kill him.

But the boy slumps all the way onto the floor. He’s entirely naked, blood smudged over his tanned skin – his spine has a slice all the way down, revealing white ridges of bone beneath it. He shudders again, making a disgusting sound. Gargled, like he’s choking on blood.

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

I want to help him, but the image is so sick. So beautiful. So serene, like touching the precipice of Hell is his final rest.

“H-Help,” he gags. “Rivaille,”

No. Don’t.

He has no green eyes, anymore. He is a husk. Instead, two empty holes stare up at me, black and endless.

_You’ve already murdered him, Rivaille. It’s over._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

I touch the flat of my stomach, the ridges of my hipbones, barely visible due to my slight curve. My skin is tan, like a creamy caramel frappe, and my body is curved as femininely as a slight female’s. Mikasa is more masculine than I am – God, she even has abs. My legs are a new story – I don’t have a thigh gap, but my thighs are soft and not muscular in the slightest.

This works for me. For some reason, I’ve never felt entirely male and I’ve never felt entirely female. I can easily throw on a baggy t-shirt and some jeans and automatically pass as a boy, or I could throw on a crop top and skirt and be a girl.

Of course, that’s not why I’m really looking over my body. Levi had left marks – small love bites over my stomach, on my throat, and little red spots along the insides of my thighs where he’d nibbled me. He’d bruised my hips, but it’s not bad – just darkening marks on my sides and hips. It didn’t hurt in the moment, and it doesn’t hurt now unless I touch the bruises.

After that day, I skipped school. On Saturday, I slept in, and on Sunday today, I’d spent part of the morning texting him. He’d told me I’m beautiful, but I don’t understand why. When I look at myself, I see a person. That’s practically it. What does he see from me?

He had to get off his phone for a while – for what, I don’t know, but it still sucks that he did. I was enjoying our conversation, about him and what he does when he isn’t around me. I learn that he likes music, and he’s interested in criminal investigations. I’m not sure if that’s bad or good, but regardless, I like that he isn’t going to stick to the mainstream jobs.

I sigh, watching the way my chest swells, then deflates. It’s fucking cold, like usual, so my nipples are perked.

“Eren?”

I jolt, quickly grabbing my shirt off the mattress and throwing it on. It isn’t but a few seconds later that the door opens, and my father enters. He’s massive, in my door’s entrance, his head nearly touching the lintel. He looks tired – when does he not? He works constantly, has a queer son, and his wife is always hopping up to claim another day as “family day”. But at the same time, my father has always looked gentle and kind. Like a doctor.

I wouldn’t dislike him so much if he didn’t look at me odd every time I wore a skirt.

“Sorry if I barged in,” he says, though I still don’t even have pants on. Of course the shirt is my sleep shirt and covers halfway down my thighs, but still. “Your mother told me about this… boy you’re interested in,”

I flop down on the bed, pulling my legs up to rest beside me. I know he’s struck by the feminine position, because his brows lower and he looks a little less happy about being in my room. He doesn’t like to come in here, really – mainly because the walls are baby blue but my sheets are pastel pink, along with practically everything else. I sigh, digging my nails into the quilting of my blanket.

He tilts his head to the spot beside me of the bed, asking me if he’s allowed to come in and sit. I nod. It’s not like I’m going to bite him, but he acts like I’m some sort of monster for liking pink and wearing panties.

I don’t look at him when he sits beside me, making the bed sink in. He’s like a friendly giant – when I was little, I used to hang myself like a cape around his neck, screaming and giggling as he dipped and swayed. Now we can’t even have a conversation together without him saying something bad.

“Listen…” he starts, but his tongue catches and he has to pause. He looks so out of place, sitting in my room. I swear he’s going to randomly grow a rose crown on his head and turn into Jesus. “Boys are… confusing.” He says, at long last. He tastes the word confusing, like he’d known it forever but never said it. “They can hurt you, and sometimes they can be kind,”

“Levi is a good guy.”

“Are you sure that’s his name?”

I pause, freezing in my place on the bed. I give him an angry look, then bite my lip, looking down. Of course he’s going to deny that someone really likes me, that he’s really who he says he is. No one is supposed to love the ugly queer boy.

“Eren… I’m just saying, you don’t know this boy as well as you think you do.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that!?” I snap, flying off the bed. He doesn’t even flinch – instead, he sets his hands in his lap and stills. “I know Levi! I-I’m the only one he ever really talks to. And… and who are you to suddenly want to help me! You didn’t care until _someone said they loved me_.”

“Did he say that? Did the boy say he loved you?”

“N-No… maybe not—“

“Then why do you believe it, son?”

Of course. Of course he’s going to try and make me think I’m alone again. I’m _not_ alone. If I texted Levi now and asked him if he loved me, then maybe he would say yes. He has to. I _got undressed_ for him, I let him fuck me in the back of a damn car. I clench my fists, crossing my arms over my stomach to hide my hands. His eyes follow, knowing I’m already mad as it is.

“Your mother and I are concerned about this boy,”

“Why?” I whisper.

“We don’t think he’s exactly who he’s saying he is,” he confessed. My mother is in on this? If he’s lying, then he could have told me last night. I silently recall what he had said – _a lot of things_. What happened to him that made him have to lie to me? If he even _is_ lying, that is. “His uncle. His name is Kenny, right?”

“Yes,” I think. I’d heard my mother mention the man before.

“Kenny Ackerman. He has a sister… that died, named Kuchel.”

This is new information. I’d wondered where Levi’s mother and father was, but it never occurred to me that maybe she was dead. It’s a sad thought – I can’t imagine what Levi must have felt. If my mother died, I’m not sure I would be able to live through it.

“So?”

“She has a son named Rivaille,”

“And?”

“Eren, Kuchel has a bad history with this family,” my father faltered on the woman’s name. Saying it, to him, is almost like a wound. I silently wonder who this woman was, and what she had to do with my family, and the relationship I have with Levi. “She wasn’t exactly a good woman. And the man she married was far worse,”

“I don’t care about his family. He cares about _me_ ,” I objected, fingers curling in further. I can feel my nails digging into the soft flesh of my palm.

“Eren… I’m just telling you. You may want to talk to him about these kinds of things,”

He’s acting like he’s trying to be defensive, but he was the one who came in here and tried to tell me my boyfriend was a liar. If he hates Levi so much, why doesn’t he just forbid me from speaking with him? Don’t normal parents do that? “Dad, I get that you’re afraid of me dating, but isn’t this a little too far?”

“You are gay.”

I swallow thickly.

“I-I’m not gay. I’m… I’m interested in anyone,”

“But you like men, don’t you?”

I nod. There isn’t a way to deny that men are my primary interest – ever since I was little, I’d liked watching the older boys play on the dusty field in the playground. Other girls would sit with me, and we’d all _oo_ and _ahh_ over the boys.

“It’s my job as your father to make sure you find the right one. I know I don’t agree entirely with… your taste in men and outfits, but I can’t change your mind on any of that, so the most I can do is make sure you are your safest.” He’s only _now_ talking about being a father? For the last few months, he’s only scowled at what I wear or mentioned that my skirt is too short. “Eren, you’re still my little boy,”

“What if I don’t want to be a boy?”

“Then you’ll be my little girl.”

I choke up at this. I didn’t expect it – I had expected him to say something along the lines of _but you have a penis_ , but instead I get this. Something I want to hear. I’d had a retort on the tip of my tongue, ready to slide off the moment he disagreed, but now there’s nothing. I make a small sound, and the sides of his eyes crinkle with a little frown.

“Ah, boy—I mean, girl—don’t cry,”

“Dad, I’m—“ I choke, and fuck I feel my eyes water. He coos, opening his arms and letting me bury my face in his chest, bent over just a little. He rubs my back, letting me shiver and hold the tears back as hard as possible. “I’m not e-either,” I whisper.

“Then what are you?”

“I don’t know,”

“You don’t _have_ to know,”

And like that, the tears come rushing out.


	16. Fresh Blood

The murderer felt no remorse for what he’d done, even as he stood over the body. Blood smeared was smeared over his once pure white shirt, and grime from the ground had joined it during the struggle. The teen laid lifeless and emptily, a husk of a former life. How long had the whole ordeal been? It had felt like an eternity, but his blood had sung too loud to hear the ticking of the clock.

Kenny had done this many times before. In the cover of night and in the broad daylight - but never had he killed a boy, and definitely not one below the age of 18. His specialty was a grown woman. Those screams were the nicest to indulge oneself in. Today, however, his victim was a friend of his enemies, and it was worthy of the battle that ensued once he’d gotten the boy by his throat. 

Armin Arlert. Barely old enough to be a freshman, yet already into his senior year. The kid was in hysterics when Kenny had found him - he stood alone after school, in a deep conversation over his phone. No doubt whoever he’d been speaking to would soon call the cops out of fear for the final choked sound their friend had made before Kenny had drove the blade between his shoulderblades. When that wasn’t enough to kill him, only severely mame him, he’d slid it across his throat and let him fall, gushing onto the concrete and dirt. 

Kenny crouched, finding his phone had ended the call. Blood smeared over the screen, he shoved the electronic into his back pocket and stood, kicking the body over onto it’s back. 

It was smart to attack the kid after school in the parking lot’s blind spot - he could leave the body there and go along the school’s outer edge and get away with it clean. Not a single moment would he be caught on footage, and not a single moment would the police spare a thought for him. He was the town shut in. 

Before he could turn and waltz away, a high ring began to blare from the flip phone - a chime, a warning. On the screen, it read “Mikasa”. 

Mikasa. Oh, Mikasa. She knew better than to partake in the Ackerman affairs, for once an Ackerman became part of the fun, they’d never escape. Especially the ones that spat on the family name. Kenny flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear. 

“Armin?”

She sounded rightfully terrified. Kenny smiled. 

“Hello, Mikasa! I’m afraid your friend has decided to take a short nap,” he nudged his foot against the body. When he pulled away, blood was on the toes of his shoe. “Maybe you should call back on a later date.”

There was a long, agonizing silence - the breathing he heard became deeper, furious.   
“You bastard. What did you do to Armin?”

“I only gave him a pleasant hello,”

“What the fuck did you do to him!”

“Listen, kid,” his voice fell. Kenny stalked around the body, wondering to himself how well the boy would have looked in a skirt. He’d never thought of it before now, but perhaps he did kill a woman - well, a potential woman. He stopped at the foot of the body, and spoke. “My boy is only doing what he needs to do. Your… Eren… will be dead by the end of the week, either by my hand or my boy’s. I’ve waited long enough for a little good old fashion revenge, wouldn’t you say?”

“If you lay a single finger on my friend, I will gouge your eyes out and use them as golfballs.”

“Tch. Don’t be so petty, Mikasa. I’m only doing what my late sister would have wanted…” Kenny murmured with mock sadness, before turning on his heel and marching the other way around the body. He found he couldn’t keep still - he was giddy with the kill, with the stench, with the mere presence of death. 

“Kenny-”

“Anyways, my dear niece, I should probably take my leave. It’s been a long day, you see, and I would like to clean up the scene. I’d like to have another nice little chitchat like this later.”

“Kenny!”

He hung up, dropped the phone on the concrete and stepped on it, leaving it to pool in the dark blood of his niece’s friend. 

 

 

 

“Oh my god,” Eren breathed, hips rocking forward and back against mine. His body is as wonderful as ever; my hands roam over his fine, curved hips and over two firm road cheeks, pulling them apart. He quivers, biting his lip. 

“Don’t be so fucking loud,” I hiss. 

Staying after school to grind on a teacher’s desk wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but it was the best option to my horny teenage brain. I couldn’t stand watching him sway his hips as he stood at his locker, putting up books and tugging at his skirt. Today it was pleasingly short, and my dick wasn’t exactly prone to staying in my pants with him around. 

The younger teen humphed and bounced just lightly, feeling my cock nudge up against him. His face a dark red, he lifted his skirt and pressed down only harder, forcing me to jerk up against him. Fucking hell. 

“Hard,” he mumbles. I lick my lips before placing a brief kiss on crook of his shoulder. He tastes delicious. He always does. “Feels funny.” 

“Feels hot,” I grumble back. I grab him by his waist and pull him closer, shirt pulled up his sides by my roaming hands. HIs flesh is soft and supple, just right to lick and tease and bite-

No biting. I can’t hurt him. 

“L-Levi, ah-”

I shush him softly. We only break so he can tug on the band of his panties, lifting a leg from my lap to tug it off and throw it behind him. His length is fully hard, a bead of precum already forming at his slit. A part of me wants to lick it up, but I keep my mouth closed and instead begin unbuttoning my pants. I can’t wait to feel him again, for the first time in damn near forever. 

But just as I’m free, his phone begins to ring. I make a low growl, wanting to toss it out the window, but before I can snatch it from the waistband of his skirt he pulls it free and answers it. 

I take the initiative and lean down to kiss and lick his nipples, quietly listening in on his conversation. 

“Mikasa?”

I perk up, making another soft, threatening growl. 

“No, I can’t… right now, I’m sorry, ah…” He swats the top of my head, but I continue anyways, giving him a soft nip. He jerks, cock rubbing against my stomach. “Yes, I talked to him today.”

There’s a brief pause as Eren listens, but I know his manner changes based off of how he winces when I bite him again. I circle my arms around his waist and stop, merely burying my nose in his chest. He smells wonderful, like honey and vanilla, and it makes me want to eat him up. 

“Yeah, I’m at the school.”

I don’t hear what she says, but it sounds urgent. I tug on Eren harder, my brain already concocting ways of cutting up the girl for even interrupting our play. Eren is mine. When he’s like this, only I can hear his voice - 

“What do you mean, ‘get out’? I’m not leaving. I have work-” Another pause. Mikasa sounds furious. “Armin…?”

“Hang up on her,” I say at last. My voice sounds too scratchy. He peeks down at me, and as what I can assume is punishment, he rubs his cock against mine. I wince and breathe a small groan. “Babe-”

“Look, Mikasa. I’m busy. I’ll call you back later.”

He hangs up before she can respond, and returns to rocking. I tilt my head back and let him. 

Fuck, I’m a mess for this boy. 

 

 

It’s nearly late evening when Levi and I finally leave the classroom. To escape the cameras we hug the walls of the school, and like usual Levi’s car is parked on the side of the road leading into the school. He claims he doesn’t like having it in the parking lot because someone might scrape it, which I can certainly understand. You haven’t seen a scraped up car until you’ve seen a car from our school. 

On the ride home, we’re mostly quiet. Mikasa had attempted to call me back at least 18 times, and each one I’d hung up on maybe the third or fourth ring. She gave up, which I’m mildly happy for. Levi and I need time alone - I’m sick of Armin and Mikasa always getting into our business, and I especially hate when they tell me he’s bad. He’s not. He’s just as bad as Armin - he wouldn’t hurt anyone unless they hurt him first. 

I peer up at him, watching the way his shoulders roll when he turns the wheel or the way his forearm muscles flex. I lick my lips and look away, crossing my arms and bringing my thighs together. 

We’d practically had sex on a teacher’s desk, today. He let me ride him, kissed every inch of my body and listened to my moans - he says they’re his favorite part of sex, just the sounds I make when we make love alone could make him orgasm. 

I sincerely doubt it. 

But it still turns me on, knowing he loves me so much he listens to the smallest thing. 

“You tired?” He finally says. I nod a little, and make a soft purred noise. I watch the way his lips pull into a little smirk, before he reaches and touches my leg, dragging it up my milky thigh. I swallow and part my thighs a little, telling him to rub me some more. 

But he pulls away, leaving me to whimper. 

“Not tired enough, apparently.”

“Shut up,” I shoot back mildly. He doesn’t listen. 

“What did Mikasa want?”

Ah, yes. The phonecall. In the middle of our sex. I shouldn’t have answered it - she just kept mumbling incoherent words and telling me to leave the school. She needs to get over her power trip - she doesn’t own me, and she sure as hell has no say in what I do, especially with Levi. 

“It was nothing,” I say. “Levi… I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask, as of late.”

He inclines his chin a little, a way of telling me he’s all ears. 

“Do you know a man by the name Grisha? Grisha Jaeger?”

He automatically shakes his head. It seem sincere - he knows the last name, as it’s mine, but certainly not the first name. 

“I assume that’s someone you know fairly well?” I bob my head once and smile. 

“My father. He claimed to have known your mother,”

He stiffens. His entire demeanor shifts, and suddenly my heart grows cold. What about his mother could possibly spurr such a reaction to knowing my father knows her? When I peer up at him, his expression is twisted into a horribly hateful thing, his lips tight and his eyes dark with the unsaid. I tighten my arms around my body. 

What if Mikasa is right? What if Levi isn’t as good as I want him to be?

“Eren, my mother isn’t important.”

“What was wrong with her?”

What did she do? What makes her so villainous to my father? I know nothing about Levi, I realize with uncertainty and fear. I know nothing about what his family is like, and I’ve certainly never had the will to look into it. What if what I find is so horrible I wouldn’t be able to stand it?

“It was nothing. My dad was a bad man, and my mother just suffered for it. A lot. I promise it’s nothing too bad.”

Something in his expression says something entirely different. Something worse. 

Before I can open my mouth again, he pulls over into my driveway. I spot curtains flutter; my mother is spying, surely she knows something more than my father does. I unlock the door and slide out, not before giving Levi a brief kiss. There’s something wrong. He seems unstrung, and the way he twitches is unnerving to say the very least. 

What’s wrong with him? What did I do?

I close the door, and watch him drive away.


End file.
